All in Good Time
by 1 Ninja Girl
Summary: And, here we go again. For anyone unfamiliar with my work or my process, Please read my other two JAG stories before starting this one. You'll be a tad bit lost without a working prior knowledge. For those of you who are familiar, have no fear, Laura returns. We just need to catch up with the unsinkable pixie, her aunt, and her favorite Flyboy uncle. What's next? Come find out.
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

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**Author's Note:** Here we go again! Is everybody excited? I am. I've had a brief, but much needed rest. ; I've got a brand new neighbor as of today. She hugged me less than 30 seconds after meeting me. Life is good! But enough about me! Shall we get on with the story?

**Disclaimer:** Guess what? They still aren't mine… I still don't own them. Well, except for Laura. She says to tell you all hello and to ask you to please take note of the date listed immediately below, unless you should be slightly confused. We're backtracking a tiny bit, for just a few minutes. The next chapter will return us to sunny San Diego in the early autumn of the year 2007 where the newlyweds await our return… At least I think it will. I'm pretty sure. Let's find out.

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Monday, January 9, 2006

San Diego Fertility Center

Sarah Mackenzie can't wait to leave. She forces herself to stand still on feet itching to run. For most of the last six months she has contemplated her decision to be here. She's wanted to be here.

No, that's not true. She needs to be here.

A year and ½ ago he said they would do this together. He said that was the important thing - not just that it happened, but that it happened with her. Then, eight months ago, he'd said something else. Something terrible; and she left him behind; running half blind for San Diego's sunny shores. She sought comfort and peace in the salty ocean air, and although the view beyond her back porch was breathtaking, the balm she sought was nonexistent. Pain, anger, and guilt rise like a relentless tide, eroding still more of what's left of her hollow and lonely heart.

She has discussed this at length, on more than one occasion, with Dr. Rebecca Thayer. No matter how slim the odds, she has to try.

An hour ago, when she walked through the clinic door, she thought she wanted to be here. Now she can't wait to leave. No one's done anything wrong; but without discernible reason, every cell in her body yearns to leave this place behind. She smiles politely and forces herself to listen as the nurse hands over paperwork and drones on cheerfully about access to their donor files. She tries hard to focus and nod in all the appropriate places each time the nurse in pink scrubs pauses to make sure she comprehends something important.

Why can't she hand over everything at once? The pamphlets, more talking. The packet of information about the clinic. Still more talking. The services offered, by the clinic… Good God will the woman ever shut up… the services Mac is interested in, access information…

Mac checks her trusty internal chronometer and tells a small fib. "I've really been through this already with the doctor. It's not that hard to understand… And there is somewhere I'm supposed to be in just a few minutes. Can't I just call if I have any questions?"

The nurse in pink smiles with understanding and offers the usual platitudes. At long last Mac sighs with relief and waves goodbye with a promise to call. She forces herself to walk calmly, as opposed to sprinting, for the clinic door.

Sliding in behind the Vette's wheel, she silently berates herself. Just get on a damn plane and go to London! She shakes her head. No, I can't do that. I have too much to do and too little time to do it. Besides, Harm told her he didn't care what it took. The only thing that mattered was that it happened with her. Then Mattie died. Okay, so he acted like an ass! So what! He'd been grieving. He was willing to subject himself to God knows what so she could have a child, then his had died and she couldn't even tolerate a few harsh words from him. Some friend she was. She has no right to go to London expecting him to make good on that deal now. Anyway, she has plans with Laura this coming weekend. It's been a busy week at work and she hasn't seen the girl since Christmas. No, she can't miss her weekend with Laura. She puts the key in the ignition. As the motor turns over she sends up a silent request.

I hope you're doing alright Flyboy. Please be alright.

* * *

Every night for the following week, before going to bed, she carefully reads over all the information she obtained at the clinic. The information doesn't change from one night to the next and she has it memorized by the third night, but still she continues to go through it each night; unable to leave it behind, yet unable to make a definitive choice about a donor, or even if she wants to proceed. She does and she doesn't. Her own ambiguity strikes her as odd; something beyond odd actually. This is one of those things in life where certainty should to be a necessary prerequisite before moving one direction or the other.

It seems, no sooner than she drifts into sleep the bizarre dream she's been having returns each night. With each succession, something new is revealed. The first night, she's alone in a dark void. She sees nothing. She feels nothing, smells nothing. The vast nothingness is painfully familiar. It's her life, she tells herself morosely.

The one and only bright spot in her life these days is Laura. So, at first, when she hears the sound of a small child's running feet echoing back to her from all conceivable directions she naturally assumes it's a Laura at play. She searches for the girl in earnest and finds only more of the same nothingness. She is snatched from the dream when her internal alarm rudely reminds her that its time she was awake.

The next night is the same with one minor exception. When she wakes, she realizes that the footsteps she heard, for what seems to be all night, are too even; too regular to be Laura's.

On the third night she finds she has use of her voice. "Who are you? Where are you? Hold still. I'll come and find you, if you'll just be still."

It makes no difference if she wakes during the night. Each time she closes her eyes, she finds herself back there; in that no where place. With each passing dream, her frustration mounts. She wonders if she's having one of those dreams, and if she is, just what the hell is she supposed to do about it? The dreams always provide some clue. There are no clues here. What is she supposed to derive from the echoing sound of a running child's feet? She can't even decide on a direction. No sooner than she is certain the child is somewhere in front of her, the sound shifts and she is forced to change her mind.

Finally, on the fourth night, nowhere becomes somewhere. She's in a hospital; the inner corridors suddenly materializing around her. This realization strikes the instant before her internal alarm sounds at 0430. Signing in frustration, she throws off the blankets and heads for the shower. Well, at least that's something.

She remembers the old fable about the tortoise and the hare. In the shower, she tells herself to relax and go with it. She knows it's no use trying to force it, or fight it. Maybe slow and steady really does when the race. At least she hopes it does. She hopes that if this is one of those dreams; that whoever this child is, he or she is not in a time sensitive situation where seconds count because she already knows that her muddled psyche won't become any clearer by applying pressure. She turns her back to the hot water hoping that the steam and the pressure will do something to minimize the tennis ball sized knot forming between her shoulder blades.

* * *

She has lunch at her desk and is quietly enjoying a roast beef sandwich with just a hint of horseradish sauce when she is surprised by the quiet knock on her office door. Petty Officer Jennifer Coates pokes her head in when granted entry and offers Mac a smile laced heavily with uncertainty.

Her curiosity piqued, Mac stifles a yawn and momentarily forgets her lack of satisfying sleep in recent nights while putting her sandwich down. "Yes, what is it Coates?"

The younger woman speaks barely above a discreet whisper when she says, "Ma'am, Mr. Webb is here to see you."

For a moment she squints; certain she heard incorrectly. "Say that again please."

The Petty Officer nods her head almost imperceptibly. "Yes Ma'am, you heard right."

Mac starts to rise to her feet, and then changes her mind. "Coates… wait… He's not on my schedule is he? No, never mind, I know he's not. That's something I would've noticed straight away and not forgotten. Whatever Mr. Webb wants tell him the answer is no." She returns to her seat and picks up her sandwich again.

"He says, he wants to see you. That's all he would say Ma'am."

The Marine mulls this over momentarily. It's perplexing. She hasn't seen Clayton Webb since that day at Mandalay. It can't possibly be personal, not after all this time. She smiles at the junior officer. "My answer stands, unless he's here for professional reasons. If he is, tell him to make an appointment. When he arrives for said appointment, I will tell him no myself."

Coates gives her a curious frown, but says a dutiful "Aye aye Colonel." She closes the door and does not disturb Mac's lunch again.

* * *

At home that evening, with a pile of take-home work spread over her coffee table and sofa, she unintentionally drifts into a heavy sleep and rejoins the illusive child. The sense of urgency, the sense of frustration that has accompanied all the other dreams is still present, but this time she know she's dreaming even while it's happening. She makes a conscious effort to relax and go with it; to just let it unfold around her. "Okay, you wanna play hide and seek; bring it kid! I'll find you. Ready or not, here I come." she calls out in a lighthearted singsong voice.

For the first time, she hears laughter. The child's laughter. It's sweet and pure, but it's definitely not Laura. It's still impossible to be certain of gender, but it is something new. It is progress. She wanders from corridor to corridor and room to room in the same dream-world hospital and it's more vivid than ever before. Each time she feels she is getting close to her goal, a moment of disorientation occurs and in that brief moment the child's location seems to shift and change. She stops at the unmanned nurses' station and strains to hear, and to think rationally. The child doesn't seem to be in distress. She senses no panic, or fear and can find no reason for alarm. Still, the child is young. Two, maybe three, at most, but she doubts it. She doesn't know how she knows that either, but she does.

She hears the sound of running feet again and her own laughter fades into a groan. "Geez kid! Don't you ever get tired?" Little feet run harder; faster and she wills herself to stay present as consciousness beckons and the sound of running toddler feet becomes the sound of an insistent knock at her front door.

She sits up suddenly; dazed, confused, and knocking file folders to the floor. More than a little grumpy at the interruption because she finally felt she might be getting somewhere with the dream, she calls out, "Yeah yeah! I'm coming. Don't knock the door off the hinges!" She tosses aside her throw blanket and plays a momentary and clumsy game of hopscotch over the tops of files on her way to the front door. She glances through the peephole and groans audibly..

Hand on her hip, she unlocks the door and opens it wide. "Still have a problem with the word no, I see. Clay, what the hell do you want?"

He stands there, caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, looking just the way she remembers; except… He's a little worse for wear. The faint touch of gray at his temples is more pronounced than it used to be. His eyelids are red rimmed. He's got a heavy 5:00 shadow. Not a good look for him. He's ten pounds thinner; which would look good… If he didn't have the dazed and disoriented look of a newly sober drunk who finds himself supremely unhappy with said sobriety.

He takes an involuntary ½ step back on her front porch in response to her less than warm greeting. "Always a pleasure to see you too, Sarah."

She skips the back-handed pleasantries. "What do you want?" she repeats.

"Invite me in and I'll tell you."

She starts to close the door and finds a highly polished wingtip in her way. "Sarah," he begins quietly. "I need your help."

The quiet admission causes her to study him for a long moment. So long in fact that he eventually raises an eyebrow curiously.

Hoping she won't regret it later, she steps back away from the door and bows slightly with sarcasm; granting him entry. She returns to the sofa slowly picking up file folders as she goes while he acquaints himself with her unfamiliar living room.

"This is a nice little house." He offers; looking around.

"Don't get too comfortable Clay. You aren't staying long." She says, stowing things in her briefcase on the coffee table.

The following silence pulls her undivided attention back to him and she finds him studying her; disappointment clearly visible in his eyes. "I hoped you wouldn't still be angry after all this time."

"I'm only irritated because you woke me up. I haven't slept much lately and I have my own problems to worry about. You said you needed help…"

He runs his fingers through his thick hair slowly. "Ah yeah. I took a leave from the agency a while back. I've only just returned and they've given me an assignment…"

He stops short when Mac starts shaking her head before he's even finished.

She waves her hands in front of her in a slightly defensive manner. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know. I will not get involved. Clay, I will not allow your kind of crazy back into my life… And quite frankly, I can't believe you would even have the nerve to come here… Wait, I take that back. Yes, you would have the nerve!"

"Look Sarah, I'm not asking you out on a date. I know that's done, but I need someone I can trust."

She shakes her head again; harder this time. "Your trusting me is something I'm no longer interested in. Besides, I can't figure out why you would trust me. The last time you did both of us very nearly died Clay. Whatever you need; find someone else."

He lowers himself onto one of the cushions of her sofa and says quietly, "The thing is, there is no one else… No one I can call on." He looks her in the eye and she can tell; it's a hard thing for him to do.

Losing some of her bite, she sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. She reaches out to touch him, but withdraws; thinking better of it. "Clay, I don't care what you say. Tell me there are terrorists roaming the streets of San Diego. No matter what, I'm not getting involved with you; not professionally… And not personally either for that matter… But, are you okay? You look…" she makes her voice as gentle as possible. "You look wrung out… Like my dad use to look on those few mornings when he woke up and accidentally found himself sober."

He winces despite her obvious attempt at being gentle. "That's the problem." he smiles wryly. "I'm sober." For the first time in… a long time."

She nods; not really surprised at her instincts. "How long?"

"Six days. It's rough."

She nods again. "Congratulations. I take it nobody at the agency knows this?" But it's not really meant to be much of a question. It's more of a statement.

He squints curiously and she supplies the rest. "If they did, you wouldn't be going out on assignment. And Clay… You shouldn't. It's hard enough to deal with reality when you're newly sober. Deciding whether to buy whole or skim milk is a difficult choice when you're newly sober. You go off to work right now, in your condition, and one of two things is going to happen. You'll either fall off the wagon or, you'll come back in the body bag. Maybe both. You have to tell someone. I won't work with you again, under any circumstances, but I will help you do that… If you'll let me."

He shakes his head and starts to get up. "I was supposed to have more downtime after the last assignment. That was the plan. Plan got changed." He switches gears; somewhat mystified. "You don't want anything to do with me personally or professionally, but you'll get on a plane and fly to Langley with me to tell my boss I'm sober?"

She nods and repeats, "If you'll let me."

He stares at her incredulously. "Why?"

"It's a debt that I owe. My uncle helped me. Let's just say, it's my turn."

He'd come here prepared for anger, even hostility. This, he hadn't expected in the least, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with it. He glances around awkwardly; looking anywhere but at her and he catches sight of a pamphlet lying on the edge of the coffee table. He picks it up and looks it over; surprised by the hand drawn image of an infant on its cover and its title; Planning Ahead.

She gently removes it from his hand and returns it to the coffee table face down as he stares at her middle. She shakes her head. "No." she answers the question he doesn't ask. "Just wishing."

He nods and stands up suddenly; eager to leave. He shouldn't have come here. What the hell was he thinking anyway? He smiles genuinely, and with just a hint of mischief. "I'd offer to help… If I thought I had a snowball's chance in hell. Good luck Sarah."

Stunned; not at all sure what to say, she silently watches him leave just as unexpectedly as he arrived. She doesn't know it, but she won't see him again for more than a year; and when she does she'll wish she hadn't.

Distracted, more by his sudden appearance than by his abrupt departure and lacking the focus necessary to return to her work, she reminds herself that she can't help someone who isn't ready to be helped. Clay's problems are not her problems; and she shouldn't attempt to make them so.

Locking the front door again, she pushes thoughts of him aside and decides on a long bath with a few drops of lavender oil, hoping to help sooth her nerves. Shortly after getting in, she falls asleep in the tub wondering if she should give the donor list another perusal or just surrender to the inevitable likelihood of remaining childless.

In sleep, she returns once more to the hospital. Although it looks nothing like the hospital where her doctor's office is located, she somehow finds herself in Dr. Thayer's office having yet another conversation. She's tired of discussing the odds. She's tired of discussing the possible side effects of fertility drugs and treatments. Feeling resigned, she allows the conversation to lapse and that's when she hears him again. Him? She questions herself. Yes, him. She's certain of it; although she has no idea why. Those are his tiny little feet tromping through the corridor outside the office. She looks at Dr. Thayer and smiles; mildly aggrieved. "That kid! I can't seem to catch him."

The doctor smiles. "Maybe your timing is off Mac."

The comment puzzles her for more than just one reason. In the first place, she's never been Mac where the doctor is concerned; always Sarah. The woman seems to be more comfortable with her given name than her preferred nickname. She can hear the kid just outside the door. She's certain of it. She finally knows exactly where he is. Standing up quickly, she shakes her head and tells the woman behind the desk, "My timing is rarely ever off." She quick steps across the office and jerks the door open in time to catch her first fleeting glimpse of the child.

Little Osh Gosh overalls, Marine green sneakers and a matching baseball cap slip through, and disappear behind, a slowly closing door at the end of the corridor. She hurries after him. When she reaches the door, she barely glances at a sign posted there. 'Authorized Personnel Only' She tries the door handle and breathes a silent thank you when it turns easily in her hand.

Just inside the door, a child's toy is on the floor. As the door closes behind her, she kneels and picks it up curiously. It's a scaled down model of an intimately familiar bright yellow biplane. Puzzled by this new piece of information she stays still and listens for any sound at all. She hears nothing. She caresses the toy flying contraption for a long moment as if it were a precious gift. When she can tear her eyes away from the small plane, albeit reluctantly, she looks around the large room and finds herself surrounded by medical equipment, freezers, and what she supposes are cryogenic storage chambers that might hold countless embryonic hopes and dreams in stasis.

Oh man, this is no place for a little kid. She thinks ironically. With a new awareness that floods her with warmth she calls out, "Alright my boy, enough is enough. You show yourself right now. No more hide and seek. Game over!"

Inexplicably, she suddenly finds herself on the outside of door and peering in through the small glass window pane once more. This time it's locked. She slaps the door with the palm of her hand repeatedly and realizes that she no longer has that toy plane in the other hand. Where did it go? Did she drop it? She doesn't remember dropping it? Glancing over her shoulder, she yells down the corridor for someone to come and unlock the door. She yells so loud that her throat hurts. No one comes.

When she turns, in heightened frustration and unmistakable maternal fear, to peer through the window pane again, shock gives way to recognition and panic gives way to acceptance in rapid succession as she sees his little face for the first time. He smiles back at her. It's a rarely seen but familiar smile. She sees it from time to time reflected back to her from the mirror. His eyes are equally familiar; a sweetly recognizable shade of blue that instantly soothes her and brings that rarely seen smile to her own lips. "Listen you!" she makes her voice gentle but firm. "Play time's over. I'm tired of chasing you. You come out here right now."

He giggles and shakes his head theatrically. "No!" he says adamantly. "I stay in. You stay out. Not time yet." He disappears from view behind a long work table inside the room; walking quickly with the boneless agility that toddlers always seem to have.

Mac pounds on the door to no avail. She can't hear him running about anymore; his small sneakers aren't slapping against the floor anymore. The last recognizable thing she does hear is the sound of her son happily making airplane noises.

Her hot bath has gone tepid and is rapidly approaching cool by the time she wakes. With his small voice still echoing in her ears, she climbs out of the tub, dons a cotton nightgown that resembles a pinstriped baseball jersey with a double zero on the back, and returns to her living room. Once there, she gathers up all the paperwork and information from the fertility clinic and dumps the lot of it unceremoniously into the kitchen trash can.

Pre-cognitive vision or hopeless longing; she's not sure which. Either way, she decides to wait a little longer. Maybe someday she'll even tell Harm about it.


	2. Just Another Sunday

**Chapter 2: Just Another Sunday **

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**Author's Note:** Head's up! There's a lot going on in this chapter despite the run of the mill title. Also, my apologies. I was gonna post this last night but my/Laura's dog decided to sit on the surge protector where my laptop was plugged in. No kidding! Sat herself right down on the power switch...Lost half the document... Ah, life with a dog!

* * *

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Harmon Rabb hears his front door close. He finishes pounding a nail into place before glancing up, expecting to see his wife come into view around the side of the house.

He's not disappointed when she appears in an emerald green sun dress; its pleated skirt belted at the waist and falling to a point just above her knees. He smiles at the matching open toed sandals and candy apple red nail polish.

"You're a little overdressed for manual labor Jarhead." He teases as she comes to a stop just shy of the newly added foundation where he's putting up framing for walls.

"Yeah, I know. Mom called. I need to go get her. She's at the grocery store, and the car won't start… Again."

Harm looks down at his sweat stained tee shirt and his blue jeans covered in sawdust. "Okay, give me a minute to change I'll go with you."

Her dark eyes sparkle flirtatious as she wrinkles her nose; making a mockery of serious contemplation. After an exaggerated pause she says, "Nah, you stay here. I like you this way." She winks at him. "Besides, I'm seriously going to try one more time to talk Mom into having that thing she drives towed into the junkyard. If you go, she'll just talk you into fixing it. At least long enough to get her home anyway. Then, next week, it will die again. I really don't think the old beater can survive too many more resurrections."

"Why won't she just go see Frank? With her budget, he won't put her in anything brand new, but I know he can find her something better than that sputtering bucket of bolts she's driving now." Harm steps between two raised treated lumber posts and jumps lithely down from elevated foundation. Before stepping away from the nearly five feet drop, that as yet has no stairs, he turns and points at Laura. "You stay put up there sweetheart. You try jumping down from there and we'll be on our way to the emergency room."

Laura rolls her eyes but smiles anyway as she says, "Duh Uncle Harm."

"Hey, I'm just making sure. You're turning into quite the little daredevil with that new leg brace."

"It's a leg brace Uncle Harm. Not a go-go gadget trampoline!" Standing several feet away from the edge Laura leans forward slightly, attempts standing on tiptoe, but then thinks better of it when her less than cooperative balance issues kick in. She glances out over the side of the foundation at the sand below. "I don't wanna jump down from here." She shakes her head adamantly. "I don't care if I do land on sand. That still might suck; 'specially if I land on one of those big seashells! Ouch!"

Mac giggles quietly at the exchange as Harm steps near enough to reposition her necklace; the clasp meant to be in back having slipped around to the front. Mildly curious, until she realizes of what he's doing, she glances down awkwardly and then straightens her neck; allowing him better access.

You're backwards." He offers quietly with a sexy smile.

"You're kind of handy to have around Mr. Rabb." She whispers. "I hardly need a mirror anymore. You're always squaring something away; necklaces, tags that stick out of place, bra straps, buttons, collars. I'm starting to wonder how I ever got dressed without you."

"That makes two of us." He teases. "There… you can go now." He lightly kisses her forehead and then her lips. She touches his face gently; wiping away a smudge of dirt with affection before turning her attention to her niece.

"Laura, what _are _you wearing?" she asks in a voice laced with both mirth and curiosity.

The little girl glances down at her overalls and squints; trying to figure out why they would draw such a puzzling question. Then she smiles at the battered old canvas nail bag secured snugly around her waist; it's small pockets bulging slightly with a collection of unseen items.

"This is my tool belt!" She nods her head; smiling happily. "Uncle Harm gave it to me. He said I could use it instead of that one over there. She points at the craftsman's leather tool belt lying several feet away from her. He says it weighs more than I do! This is better, even if it doesn't have a place for a hammer!" She scowls but then quickly shrugs off her mild irritation.

"What have you got in the pockets?"

Mac watches and smiles as the girl lifts out and displays items one after the other, carefully returning each one to its proper place before showing off the next; a tape measure, a handful of nails, a collection of screwdrivers, a very small level, and a carpenter's ruler. Next, Laura points to the small hammer lying at her feet.

"That's mine too. I tried to keep it tucked in the tie string around my belly, but Uncle Harm says no. He says it'll only stay there until I forget about it, and then it will fall out on top of my foot. He says that's no fun."

Mac chuckles as she offers her husband a one armed hug. "Laura, something tells me Uncle Harm's dropped a hammer on his foot before."

Harm groans comically. "More than once. Not fun! Not fun at all."

Mac offers Harm a smile. "You want me to pick up a couple of ice packs while I'm at the store. You know, just in case?"

He shakes his head. "Bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel works just fine."

She nods. "Laura, baby, are you coming with me to get Mimi, or are you staying here?"

"I'm staying here with Uncle Harm. He needs me. I'm his prentice now, but I forget what that word means."

"You mean apprentice." Mac enunciates carefully. An apprentice is a student who is learning a craft or a trade."

Laura nods thoughtfully as Mac waves goodbye. "I'll be back shortly." She says, offering Harm another quick kiss before she steps away.

As she rounds the side of the house and her feet find the driveway Harm calls out, "Seriously, Mac nag your mom about a new car, before she gets stranded someplace a whole lot less friendly than the grocery store parking lot, and Laura calls out happily, "Aunt Mac, bring me back some pineapple and coconut popsicles… Please."

Mac chuckles and answers loudly as she slides in behind the wheel of her Jeep, "I've been nagging her, but I'll try again… and… I'll think about it." she teases; fully intending to honor the request.

* * *

Mac turns the Jeep's radio down another decibel as James Blunt poignantly sings 'You're Beautiful.' She gives up the effort not to yawn. Keeping one hand on wheel, she covers her mouth with the back of her free hand and then offers Deanne O' Hara the bag of sunflower kernels in her lap.

Her mother shakes her head. "I should be used to it by now, but I never understood how you or your dad could eat so much and stay so slender."

Mac watches the road and shrugs unperturbed. "Mackenzie Metabolism. Grandpa Virgil was skinny as a twig."

"I seriously think that man had a tapeworm! He ate more than you and your dad combined."

"He had thyroid problems Mom. They weren't diagnosed until after you left."

"You should have yours checked."

The expression that passes over Mac's face is somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "My thyroid is fine Mom."

"Really, because as the third time you've yawned in twenty minutes."

Mac rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "I'm fine! It's Sunday. It's warm, the sun is shining and I think that a cat nap in a hammock in the backyard would be a wonderful thing."

The older woman smiles. "That new husband of yours keeping you awake nights?"

Mac chuckles quietly. "Mom, we make it a point to keep each other awake… Fairly often, but even so, I still sleep better with him than I did without."

Really?" she inquires; sounding doubtful.

Mac nods. "Yeah, really. I'm something of an insomniac and having Harm here sort of eases a lot of the reasons I don't sleep."

Deanne nods thoughtfully. "I still like having the bed to myself."

The air between them hums with its current of unspoken words. Mac nods and wrinkles her nose slightly. Yes, I imagine you do. I on the other hand, don't much care for it. I've had the bed to myself for the last two years. Good thing he showed up when he did. I don't know if I could have made it through another year." Trying to keep the mood from going sour; Mac smiles with a hint of wicked mirth. "The battery operated substitutes and will do in a pinch… but they leave a lot to be desired."

It takes a moment for the penny to drop, but when it does Deanne cries out, "Ugh! Sarah!"

She giggles. "Oh come on Mom! You avoid anybody with a Y chromosome like they're carrying the plague. You have for the last 25 years… It's gotta get lonely."

She shrugs. "Not having any bruises to cover up is worth the trade honey."

"Not all men hit… Some of them even keep the manipulation down to a minimal level, but if you never put yourself out there how are you supposed to know that. I know you still find them attractive. You actually smiled at that guy in the grocery store parking lot."

"Who? Him. So what. He was being nice… Moved my groceries from my car to yours. Sort of reminded me of an older version of that guy… What was his name? He served with your dad. The good looking one. The one with the weird first name. I can't remember his last name, but his first was… I don't know something like Bennett."

Mac groans in dismay and mutters more to herself than her mother, "Oh God it's genetic!" then, louder she says, "I take it back Mom. Don't put yourself out there! Your selection maker is broken!"

The woman in the passenger seat raises an eyebrow. "My selection maker?

Swallowing a handful of sunflower kernels, Mac nods emphatically as she keeps one eye on the road in front of her. "That impulse, that internal homing device that helps you choose one man over another. Yours is broken! If your marriage to Joe didn't prove that, what you just said certainly does."

Deanne turns slightly in her seat to face her daughter as best as possible; straining the shoulder strap of her seatbelt. "Why?"

"His name was Beckett… Beckett Jeffries and he… was worse than Joe."

She nods at the name. "That's it." Then she scowls; clearly unable to imagine anyone worse. "That's the last thing I would've expected you to say Sarah. Why?"

For a flicker in time, before returning her eyes to the road, Mac stares at her mother incredulously. "Because Mom… The man was a pedophile!"

Deanne drops her jaw; stunned. After a moment of awkward hesitation she declares, "Sarah, that's a horrible accusation to make! That man was always nice to you."

"The horror doesn't make it any less true." Mac says blandly. "And the fact that he was an unmarried man who would sit alone on the bench at the base playground and watch the kids play should've tipped you off Mom. By the time I was ten I already knew not to get within arm's reach of him."

Several more hushed seconds tick by before the older woman can bring herself to ask, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Who did he hurt?"

"He was always accidentally bumping up against people…" Mac answers with something hard in her voice… "Kid sized people. After you left, he started hanging around the house more. I thought I'd gotten too old for him by then, but one day when I wasn't paying attention, he walked up behind me in the kitchen and stuck his hand up my skirt." Mac shivers in revulsion at the memory.

"Oh God! Sarah… I didn't know…"

"Mom." She starts slowly; gently, and without accusation. "It's not your fault. You weren't there."

"What happened?" she asks, actually managing to sound maternal. "Did you tell somebody? Did you tell your dad?"

Mac laughs bitterly. "Hell no! Dad would've made it my fault. He would've carted me off to the basement of some dingy hospital and had me… sterilized." She announces as if she's envisioning surgery without anesthetic.

"He would not!"

Another burst of harsh laughter escapes Mac. She snaps off the radio; with the decisive flick of her wrist. For a fleeting moment, she forgets her desire to keep things light between them. "Right! I forgot." She hisses with sarcasm. "The only person Joe ever hurt was you! You bore the entire weight of his anger all on your o…"

She stops short when she realizes that her voice is rising. After a weighted pause, she sucks in very deep breath and grips the steering wheel hard with both hands. "Mom… I said I wasn't going to do this today. I'm sorry." She counts to five slowly."

"Said you weren't going to do what?" her mother asks sounding small and worried.

Mac takes one hand off the wheel and motions between the two of them; causing her mother to flinch. "This. This old war between you and me. One of us says something to remind the other of Joe and then all those bad feelings come back and I bite your head off… Not that I don't have good reason for it, but it's gonna stop!" She sighs heavily.

She waits several seconds before continuing, when she does, she says quietly, "Whether you think I should've been or not, I was scared of him… Joe terrified me. I've never tried to downplay or diminish what he did to you. I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop doing that to me. Okay? From here on out, can we just agree that he was rotten… To pretty much everybody he knew?"

Mac watches her non-responsive mother nod out of the corner of her eye. "Mom, don't you ever get tired of doing this?"

"I guess I've just gotten use to it Sarah." She sighs sounding defeated. "Your sister's worse. Much worse."

Mac nods and doesn't say anything on another long moment.

"So, you didn't tell anybody." Deanne returns to their original conversation because as bad as it is, it's safer.

"I told Chris. He took care of it."

"Chris?"

"Christopher Ragel."

Deanne squints as she pulls forth an old memory from the dark recesses of her mind. "That car stealing thug who lived a couple of doors down?" She finds herself perplexed when Mac grins.

"Yeah, that's him."

"Why would you tell him?" Without waiting for an answer she muses, "Wonder what ever happened to him?"

"He died a few years ago." Mac shoots her mother a fleeting look of warning.

"What? What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Mac fidgets with the pendant at the end of her necklace. "Just that I married him."

Her mother groans. "Oh Sarah, no!"

Mac wrinkles her nose and nods. "Sad but true." She answers matter-of-factly. "That's why I said the broken selection maker was genetic. Didn't last long. Less than a year, but it was long enough for him to cause me all sorts of problems."

Deanne closes her eyes and shakes her head. "You said he died… A few years back? What happened to him?"

Mac shakes her own head. "He wound up on the wrong end of a gun… But that's enough bad news for one day." She takes the turn into the trailer park where her mother lives, and seconds later, she takes another into her mother's driveway. "Let's get your groceries in. I need to get home and offer Harm at least some kind of help today. He's putting up walls for our new bathroom."

Mac gets out of the Jeep and walks around back. She takes two bags from the cargo hold and waits for her mother to join her before she says, "He really wants you to talk to Frank about a new car before you get stranded on some bad road."

As they step up onto the front porch Deanne answers, "I can't afford a new car."

Mac takes a bag of groceries from her so she can unlock her front door. "Mom, you can't afford to keep the one you've got now. What happens when you get stranded, and I'm not available to come get you? It's not safe. Let us help you. Frank won't find you anything fancy but he can get you something better than what you've got now. Something that won't die on you on a lonely road late at night."

"I never go anywhere late at night. I seldom go anywhere after dark."

"Doesn't matter. That myth that bad things only happen to women driving alone after dark is just that… A myth… and you know it… Better than most. Mom, you really need to get your reactions straight. You're all over the place! You overreact about men in general, and yet you're complacent about situations that actually might be dangerous." She yawns, and steps into the trailer when her mother opens the door. On her way to the kitchen, she flips the dial on one of the trailer's window units then shivers at the cold blast of air it emits before she carries the grocery bags on the small kitchen table. "I worry about you."

Deanne smiles awkwardly. "When you're not busy being mad at me?" she asks lightly. "I must be such a thorn in your side."

"You do have your moments." She watches her mother put a gallon of milk and the refrigerator. "But I'm serious, you need a new car… And you and I really do have to start making more of an effort to get along. If not for ourselves; then for Laura."

"What's Laura got to do with it?" she asks, tossing a bag of corn chips on top of the refrigerator.

"Casey called last night. I talked to her for a minute. Then I let Laura have the rest of her phone time. Every time she calls Laura's in a snit for hours after. Casey puts her in a bad mood. I've started to realize she has no idea how to relate to her mother. And that's our fault… All three of us I mean. Casey talks to you the same way Joe use to. You and I are better… But not much. Somebody's got to teach Laura how to deal with difficult situations, relationships, and get along. She lives with me now. So, I guess that makes it my responsibility. So, let's try to stop sniping at each other… Especially in from of Laura." Mac takes a packet of spaghetti noodles out of a grocery sack and hands it to her mother.

Taking the pasta; Deanne nods and places it in a kitchen cabinet. "Okay." She says quietly, but I don't know about the car. I can tell you like them, but I'm not comfortable asking these people for help."

Mac rolls her eyes and pats her mother shoulder. "Bye Mom."

Her mother looks confused. "You're leaving?"

Mac stops at the small archway between the kitchen and living room. "First," she offers her mother a smile. "They aren't just 'these people.' They are part of my family, and yes… I'm leaving… Before I get irritated. I'll call you in a couple of days. Let me know when you need to pick up the car, and if you need help paying for the repairs."

* * *

Back in the Jeep, she starts the engine and activates the hands free usage for her cell phone via the button on her steering wheel. As she pulls out of the drive, she waits for the familiar disembodied female voice to prompt a request and then says, "Dial Harm."

She listens to his phone ring through the speaker system in her car. When he picks up on the fourth ring she can hear that flyboy grin in his voice when he asks, "Did you take a wrong turn? You could be halfway to Yuma by now." He exaggerates.

She chuckles. "Put down the hammer Flyboy. Go take a shower, and brush the sawdust off Laura. I'll be there in ten minutes; fifteen tops. We're going out to lunch."

"Okay by me, but why do you need fifteen minutes to get here? Is everything okay?"

She smiles "Yep. Everything's fine." She declares with spunk.

"Really?" he asks incredulously. "No fireworks?"

"Not today… Well… Maybe a few sparklers, but I'm good. I've just need to make a quick stop. I forgot Laura's popsicles, but don't tell her that… Please!"

"Who? Me? Rat you out? Not a chance!"

"Okay! See you soon!" Disconnecting the call, she turns the radio back on and soon finds herself humming along with last year's hit tune Beverly Hills. She pauses to yawn, but decides the cat nap in the sun can wait for another day.


	3. In the Beginning

******Chapter 3: In the Beginning...**

**Author's Note: **It's been a busy week. I missed you guys!

* * *

Tuesday, October 21, 2007

Harm pauses in his work and looks about as if he's missing something.

"What?" Mac smiles. "What do you need?"

"The place is so quiet without her."

His wife reaches out and pats his hand. "She'll be back tomorrow."

"I know, I just miss her, that's all. She's so noisy, but you get use to it. Who's bright idea was it the let her sleep away from home on a weeknight anyway?"

Mac taps the business end of a pencil against the mark she just made on a piece of lumber. "Are you going to cut here, or are you going to let me have the saw? Laura will be fine. Tomorrow is a teacher in-service day and she was eager to see Liam. He's been at his dad's for an entire week. She misses him… And I needed a night off duty."

He glances at her face speculatively. "You do look a little worn out Marine. Here… Watch your fingers."

Mac holds her end of the lumber steady and watches the circular saw Harm is using do its work until it is ¼ way through the job. She then turns her tired eyes to the setting sun out over the water. The working saw's vibrations are transmitted through the wood to her hands and wrists, up her arms into her shoulders. She knows he's finished the task a millisecond before the saw shuts off when she feels its affect on the wood give way. She stays as she is until she feels him try to lift the newly cut lumber to set it aside with other recently cut beams.

"Mac?"

Returning her gaze to his face, she gives him a wan smile and stands up straight. She places the heel of her right hand against the small of her back and presses in hard. "Yeah I'm here, and you're right, I guess. I am worn out. I'm starting to hurt too."

"Hey, we can stop. Rome wasn't built in a day."

She gives him a puzzled look and has to think for a moment before she answers. "Oh no Harm. It's not this. I haven't done anything besides carry a few beams and hold things steady. This is fine. It's not this; it's me. It's been a crazy couple of days at work. The investigation into Petty Officer Brandon's conduct issues starts Thursday. I didn't want to, but it's past time for disciplinary action. I guess I'm just a little depressed about it. Besides that, I know tomorrow I'm going to feel absolutely wretched. I can feel it coming."

He studies her for a moment, and then kneels and unplugs the saw from its extension cord that snakes down the back porch steps. It's plugged into an outlet through an open kitchen window. When he's certain the power tool is safe, he leaves it where it is and gently takes her elbow leading her around the side of the house and to those steps. He sits, pushing the extension cord out of the way, and gently pulling her along with him.

"You feel what coming?"

For a moment, she doesn't say anything; just pivots her head side to side as if it's suddenly ten pounds heavier and is putting strain on her neck. She looks at her hands and realizes that she 's still wearing her rings. "I should've taken these off before coming out here to work. I'll have sawdust imbedded in the setting." She gently fingers her engagement ring and notices that her wedding ring isn't slipping around backwards anymore. "My hands are swollen." She holds them up, as if putting them on display.

He turns them, palms together, and covers them with his own. "They look fine to me." He says softly, not really sure why they're discussing this.

She shakes her head. "When their fine, my wedding ring is just a smidgen too big. It slips around backwards."

"You should've told me. We can have it sized." He offers with a puzzled frown.

"No. It needs to be the size that it is; otherwise I won't be able to wear it half the month. My hands swell... And this month's going to be gruesome. I can tell."

"Ahh." He says; finally catching the threat of her thoughts. "You're hurting; the Endometriosis is flaring up?"

She nods. "Just a bit tonight. Just an intermittent dull ache. Tomorrow will be worse. I skipped the last two months, so this one isn't going to be a picnic. Can we not do anything tomorrow night; not go anywhere? Getting through the workday will be hard enough. I don't think I'm going to be much good for anything by tomorrow night Harm."

"If I understand right, then it gets worse… at… certain times?"

She smiles and scoots a little closer to him on the step. "I really do like you!" she announces as if this is an unknown fact.

"Well…" He drapes an arm around her shoulders; helping her snuggle closer. "I sure hope so. If not, marrying me was kind of a weird thing to do."

She playfully nudges his chest with a shoulder. "I mean it Harm! Anyone else I've ever been with would've run screaming into the ocean…" She points out at the water. "Before he sat here on the back porch step and talked with me about this."

"Yeah, well… I don't feel much like a swim right now." He jokes.

She nudges him again, even though she knows he's not going anywhere. "Yeah. It's worse during my period. Not always horrible, but…"

"But you skipped the last two months; so I'm guessing you figure you're due for a bad one."

"Yeah. Please don't get excited. I don't want you to be disappointed. Doesn't mean what you think it means… Not with me."

"Yeah, I know." He says somberly.

"You know?" she lifts her head off his shoulder and gives him a worried look. "Do I detect a lack of optimism? That's not like you Flyboy. What's wrong?"

"I found your calendar one day last week. Took me a few minutes to understand what I was looking at. Plus, I read all that information you gave me."

"Harm, what are you talking about? What information?"

"Three years ago. The week after the Admiral retired. I came to see you. You had all those pamphlets and brochures and all that information from the doctor's office. You gave me some of it."

"I gave it to you because you asked for it. I didn't think you'd actually read it. I thought you were just being… I don't know… supportive.

This time he nudges her. "I was. But it wasn't a ploy. You're my best friend. I was worried about you. That, and I knew you didn't really feel like talking about it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but I wanted to know stuff Mac."

She grins at the simple turn of phrase. "You wanted to know stuff huh?"

He nods. "I did… And it didn't seem like you were up for a bunch of… delicate questions. At least, not then."

He awkwardly attempts to choose his words and express himself with compassion. "Is it… normal… For you skip two months? That calendar of yours was kind of confusing.

The quiet laughter that escapes her is devoid of humor. "That calendar is confusing because my body is confused." She tries a weak smile. "I don't have any kind of a predictable cycle Harm. Basically, it just happens when it happens. That's a big part of what makes conception so difficult. Not only is my uterus nearly uninhabitable; I don't even ovulate on a normal schedule so, I can't even tell you when the best time to try would be." She wrinkles her nose in mild disgust. "Not that I want to put our lovemaking on some kind of schedule."

He shakes his own head. "Somehow, that sounds… less than appealing, but you mentioned that you had another procedure about six months ago. Mac, is it safe for you to even try? I want to; but not if it is dangerous for you. I don't want to risk hurting you… or worse."

Mac feels the shutter that rolls through his body in response to his own thoughts and she muses silently for a nearly interminable half dozen seconds at the bizarre sensation of being both joyful and heartbroken in the same moment.

The thought that they may be advised not even to attempt pregnancy is nearly unbearable. Yet, hearing him say, without so much as a moment's hesitation, that he would set aside his desire for a child of their own to keep her safe and healthy, is nothing less than precious to her.

She leans back in his arms to make eye contact and can't find the words to express the emotional conundrum she feels within. The patient curiosity she glimpses in his eyes helps to ground her, and reminds her that he's waiting for an answer to his question. Though it takes some effort, she focuses her thoughts and answers him quietly "January 2006 my doctor said it was okay to try, but that was more than 18 months ago. It's probably a good idea to ask first; especially since the procedure last Spring."

"You asked if it was okay? You told me you thought about trying to find a donor. Sounds like you did more than think about it."

She nods hesitantly; hoping he won't be hurt or offended. "I got all the information… I did everything up to deciding on an actual donor. I couldn't go through with it."

He breathes deeply and offers her an awkward smile. "Am I a jerk if I admit I'm glad you couldn't?"

She thinks about it for several long seconds and then surprises him when she adamantly shakes her head. "Not a jerk. Just honest." She whispers.

"What stopped you? The way things were between you and I back then; Mac… You didn't owe me anything. "

She snuggles close again. "We could argue about that statement. I think I owed you plenty, but I'm not up for that conversation just now. And anyway, I told you. It just felt wrong. By then I'd gotten pretty tired of doing things that felt wrong when it came to you and me. Besides…" She touches his face and offers him a genuine smile. "I was having some very… peculiar… dreams at that point. They made me second guess everything; even my decision to consider such an option.

"Peculiar? Peculiar how? Peculiar as in walking into class for the final exam naked? Or peculiar as in pre-cognitive vision that defies logic?"

She can't help but laugh at his imagination and imagery it provides. "That may be the weirdest part of all Harm. I'm not sure which. The dreams may have been nothing more than fruitless longing - a frightening and beautiful glimpse at what we'll never have. That's my fear. But they may have been something more. I can't tell with any real certainty. But they were powerful enough - enough to persuade me not to go through with insemination. Trouble is, the harder I search for the answer to your question the more elusive it becomes.

He stands up and pulls her to her feet along with him. "Come inside. I'll make you a lasagna for dinner and you can tell me about these elusive dreams."


	4. The Promise Revisited

******Chapter 4: The Promise Revisited**

**Author's Note: **I'm up very late with a sick doggie. I'm also very tired. If this chapter needs work, I'll fix it, promise

* * *

Tuesday, October 21, 2007

On the living room sofa, Mac drifts in and out of a light consciousness. Not quite awake, yet not quite asleep either, she listens to the old familiar sounds of Harm busy in the kitchen. A metal spoon clings against the side of a glass bowl. Cabinet doors open, the refrigerator closes, the can opener emits its metallic hum, and there's the faint bubbling sound of boiling water accompanied by the heady aroma of pasta in the air. Mac settles a little deeper into the cushions; content with this peaceful moment despite the nagging dull ache in the small of her back.

While she listens to Harm moving about, only a few feet away in the small cottage, the late evening sun shines warmly through the window; painting abstract patterns on the insides of her closed eyelids. She hovers in that uncharted space between dreams and reality vaguely aware that something is amiss. The refrigerator door opens twice more, and then the freezer and he mutters to himself quietly. He's looking for something; something he's missing. An ingredient? She wonders.

Fragments of their earlier conversation mix and mingle with her awareness of him. She told him about her dreams; about searching an abandoned hospital while chasing after their son – the playful, happy, toddler who wasn't yet ready to be found. He was not ready to give up his game of hide and seek. His happy, yet adamant little upturned face shimmers just beyond her visual range, overlapping with the image of Harm's eager face as he had listened intently while she talked. She did her best to describe dreams that were at times confusing, with what she felt were highly inadequate words to communicate the sheer magnitude of all that she saw and experienced.

Harm had hung on every word. Gone are the days when he might've questioned or doubted Mac and her mystifying dreams. He knows she still isn't comfortable with, and that she often doubts what she sees, or at least her ability to interpret it correctly. He, on the other hand, has benefited from this ability of hers too many times to discredit it. For him, believing is more than easy; it's natural. He couldn't help but smile at her obvious frustration over having spent every night for at least a week chasing their happy but uncooperative toddler through her dreams.

It's that same smile she sees now; overlapping in her mind's eye with the smile on the little boy's face, at least until she senses her husband's nearness a mere second before she feels his light kiss on her forehead.

Opening her eyes, she catches Harm by the hand as he turns to step away; while reaching for his car keys on a nearby end table with his free hand. Pushing herself up on one elbow she inhales deeply; dispelling the ether of light sleep. "Where are you going?" she grimaces mildly when her back loses contact with the warm heating pad beneath her body.

"Sorry, thought you were sleeping soundly. Store. We don't have any Italian sausage. Be right back."

"No, I was sort of hovering in that nowhere space between sleep and awake. Do we have any ground beef? I think we do."

He nods while she snakes one bare foot from beneath the quilted throw covering her and places it on the floor. "But no sausage." he says.

She shrugs while she covers her mouth and yawns discreetly. "Leave it out. It's not really my favorite anyway. I like the beef better."

Harm raises a curious eyebrow as he lowers himself onto the narrow vacant spot on the sofa where her left leg had rested before. "You're kidding me! There's a meat you don't like?"

She shrugs again. "It's okay. I'll eat it if it's in front of me, but it's not my favorite. It has a funny aftertaste. It tastes like spaghetti sauce; even when it's not in spaghetti sauce." With a smile, she adds a final declaration in a plucky tone that reminds him of Laura, and he half expects to see her bob her chin; mimicking the little girl's customary emphatic certainty as she says, "It's a weird food."

He shakes his head and gently brushes a lock of hair away from her face. "Mac, I've been making lasagna for you for eleven years with Italian sausage in it. Why didn't you tell me that you don't like it?"

"I told you." She almost whines and rolls her eyes. "It's okay. You're one of the few people who actually cooks for me. I don't want you to stop. I save my food complaints for the really nasty stuff…"

"Like meatless meatloaf." They say; laughing in unison.

Becoming aware of her body and its nearness, he flashes his customary smile. "Still, you could have told me. I'd prefer to make it without the sausage anyway. No matter how careful I am dividing the pan in half between vegetarian and Ninja Girl style some of it always finds its way over to my side."

She picks her foot up off the floor and slides her leg around his hip. "So, you'll still make lasagna for me… with the ground beef on my side?"

Smiling, he leans in, bracing himself on his elbows and gently tangling the fingers of one hand in her hair. "Well, that's better than sausage." He whispers. "I'd forgo the tomato sauce if I could talk you into letting me put spinach and carrots in it instead."

A millisecond before their lips meet in what would be a tender kiss, she turns away slightly; pressing her head back into the pillows that are resting against the arm of the sofa. With her eyes shining, she wrinkles her nose and shrugs faintly; the simple motion creating pleasant friction between the two of them. "That doesn't sound awful. 'Specially if you put some chicken on my side. That might be really good! There's a frozen one like that at the store. Bet yours would be better!" she offers with a sweet smile.

"Yeah yeah, God forbid you should eat something healthy without some variety of dead animal in it…" He pauses to study her as if he's waiting for something. "Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"Maybe." She teases quietly. "Will you make me a cup of tea if I do?"

Harm eases back a bit and squints down at her. "First, lasagna without sausage, and now tea, instead of your usual high octane coffee? Okay lady, who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

She chuckles quietly and the leg around his hip cinches just a little tighter as she tries to bring him closer once again. "It's me… I promise." She whispers seductively. "I'm supposed to cut back on the caffeine when the Endometriosis flares up. Doctor says it makes it worse. Actually, she wants me to give up the coffee altogether. I actually tried once about six months ago… It's not gonna happen. Three days without coffee, and I made the Bride of Frankenstein, Medusa, and the Wicked Witch of the West all three look like June Cleaver by comparison. On the third afternoon my XO brought a cup of coffee into my office and informed me, 'With respect; it's this, or retire. You're scaring people Colonel!"

Harm chuckles softly as he focuses his attention on a spot just south of her right ear. "And you didn't hand him his discharge papers?" he asks, gently caressing the spot that has so much of his attention with his lips.

"Um um. He's not you, but we work well together. I think I make him a little nervous sometimes but he'll step in and keep me in line when he thinks it's important."

"The man should be entitled to combat pay." Harm teases before he thinks twice about it.

Only mildly annoyed, and laughing; she pushes him away. "Get off me Squid!"

Harm teeters on the edge of the sofa; barely managing to stay upright. "Hey, you started it!"

She nods and grins playfully as she carefully swings her right leg over his head before rising to her own feet. "And now I'm ending it." She says quietly; effectively demonstrating that she is all-powerful.

Before taking up a new post on one of the stools at the bar that divides their kitchen from their living room, she kneels at one end of the sofa and unplugs the heating pad from an electrical outlet and carries it with her.

While she chooses another outlet to accommodate the heating pad, she watches Harm return tomato sauce to the refrigerator; trading it for chicken, spinach and carrots. He, in turn, watches her reposition the bar stool when she discovers the cord on her heating pad is not long enough to reach the stool's customary position comfortably.

Holding up an index finger to indicate that she should wait a moment, he leaves the food on the counter and crosses the small living room at a trot. He disappears into the bathroom and a moment later returns with a small plastic packet that he tears open with his teeth. She raises a curious eyebrow and he draws a circle in the air with one finger pointed at the floor. "Stand up Marine. Turn around and unbutton your blouse."

The curious eyebrow arches a fraction of an inch higher but after minimal hesitation she complies wordlessly. When her back is to him and the dark chocolate colored blouse is completely undone, he lifts the hem and carefully places a large thermal heat wrap against the small of her back. Smoothing it flat, he slowly works his hands around to her hips and she leans into him affectionately.

"Harm, what have you stuck to my back? I hope it's not one of those Icy Hot patches. I don't smell one of those but, whatever that medicated stuff is they use in their patches, it makes my skin peel."

He glances down at her upturned face and steals the kiss he didn't get earlier before answering, "No smelly meds that eat skin. These have some sort of small stone imbedded in the wrap that gradually warms via your own body heat then radiates it back to you. With a couple of punch outs behind me, I need one sometimes. And I don't like smelling like an arthritic old man. It's a little big for you, but you can sleep in it. You won't have to worry carrying a heating pad with you everywhere, about plugging in to an electrical outlet, or about it shorting out, getting too hot; maybe burning you. Give it twenty minutes, if it doesn't get hot enough for you, I'll get one of Mom's rice pillows and pop it in the microwave."

His hands come to rest low on her abdomen. He is so still that for a moment she incorrectly assumes that he is enjoying the view still partially obscured by her unbuttoned blouse. When his hands don't begin to wander and his breathing doesn't alter slightly she guesses again; this time her own thoughts finding the right path.

Not for the first time, she cautions gently. "I don't know for sure that it was that kind of dream Harm. Even if it was, the details don't always line up perfectly with reality. We should talk to the doctor. I don't know that I will carry him. It's unlikely. You already know that; we both do. I can't even guarantee that he'll be a boy, or that he'll look even remotely like I picture him. Who's to say that's not just my subconscious conjuring up what I want to see."

She feels his undeterred shrug.

"The details don't matter; not really. I don't really care how he gets here, what he looks like or even if he's a girl. All that matters is that he… or she… will be ours."

Mac turns in his arms and holds him close for a long moment before he says quietly, "Call the doctor, make an appointment, let me know. I'll be there no matter when. It would be easiest if you can schedule the appointment before I have to report for duty, but if not I'll make it work. We'll get started. I know we are a few years later than we originally planned…" he gently tips her chin upward and offers her a sweet kiss before he says in a hushed voice filled with nostalgia, "But I've got a promise to keep."

He's slow to leave her embrace as that conversation from so many years ago replays in both their minds.

_"__Don't make a promise you can't keep Flyboy."_

_"I haven't yet."_

She can still remember the feel of his warm handshake; his larger hand completely engulfing hers. He still remembers the quiet hope in her eyes.

When they finally do part, he steps back into the kitchen and she returns to her bar stool; content to watch him work. As he begins layering the bottom of a dish with fresh pasta he smiles and winks at her across the bar.

Knowing that she's not feeling well, and nothing will come of it, he enjoys teasing her anyway. "If you want to eat this before midnight you better button up Marine."


	5. Marking Time

**Chapter 5: Marking Time**

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

Butterflies flutter in her stomach and Mac marvels at how some things never change. Almost 30 years have passed since the very first time she entered one of these rooms.

But, she was a frightened child then. She's well into adulthood and she's a Marine now too. Yet she still has to suppress the nervous urge to count the ticks of the second hand on the clock inside in her head until the doctor arrives.

Counting the ticks of the second hand was a coping mechanism she employed routinely as child. Usually when hiding in the closet. But it worked the first time she was waiting on a doctor too.

She used to play a little game with herself. How many seconds until … some thing happened. How many seconds until Dad yelled? How many seconds until the door slammed, or he cursed, or he hit Mom, or he cried? How many seconds until he broke a window? How many seconds were there between bad things? Yeah, most people would think it macabre, but it comforted her. It gave her something other than the bad things to focus on. She couldn't think too much about the bad things if she concentrated really hard on counting the seconds in between.

These rooms; they're all the same. Sure the paint on the walls may be a different color, or the tile on the floor, but basically they're the same. They're all small, cramped, and utilitarian in nature… And they all smell the same too; like soap, disinfectant, and flop sweat. She looks at one of the medical diagrams stuck to the wall with poster gum. An uncomfortable smile almost lifts the corners of her mouth. The butterflies' wings flutter a little less aggressively.

The thin white paper that covers the exam table crinkles beneath Mac as she perches on the edge of the table, crosses her bare feet at the ankles, and nervously swings them back and forth. She idly picks at the hem of her thin hospital gown and tries not to count as she watches Harm take in the small room. He paces slowly, glancing about for something to occupy his mind while they wait for her doctor to join them. He glances at one of the posters on the wall; the one that almost made her smile. It's the sort of thing you'd find in a high school Biology class room. On it, the female reproductive system is clearly represented and its various parts adequately labeled in bold black print. Harm shakes his head as if puzzled by the poster.

Glancing her way and detecting apprehension simply by observing her posture, he grins and steps closer to her. He points at the poster. "Why do they have to hang these things in here? Don't they understand that seeing pictures of your insides while you sit here waiting to be examined isn't exactly soothing?"

She smiles and offers him a shrug; somehow amused by their differences in opinion, and that oddly helps her relax. "It might be comforting for some people." She offers patiently.

"What people? Anybody beyond freshman Biology has seen that poster… Or one very similar to it."

"Well… What if you haven't made it to freshmen Biology yet? I realize this might stretch your imagination to its limits Flyboy, but what if you're a barely eleven year old girl. What if you're scared you might be pregnant and too embarrassed to ask questions because you can't figure out whether or not you did something really bad? Your idiot drunken father is uncomfortable and embarrassed when your mother tells him that she bought you a training bra yesterday and he has some kind of thermal meltdown because last week he saw you kiss a boy on the cheek. He screams loud enough for every neighbor on the block to hear."

'She's already kissing boys, now she needs a bra, next thing you know she'll be god damn pregnant!'

"So, you wonder, what's the big deal about kissing a boy on the cheek? He fixed your bicycle tire so that your dad wouldn't know you ran over a nail. You didn't do it on purpose. And you hate the stupid bra. Nobody else your age needs one. None of your girlfriends have them, and what's Dad so mad about anyway? Maybe you're a freak. Maybe there's something really wrong with you. Maybe that's why your body is changing. Maybe that's why he's mad. You didn't want to change. You can't help it. It just happened. The only thing you really know for sure is that you don't want to be pregnant. So, you ditch school, sneak onto the big bus you're not allowed to ride without a parent. It's easy. You get on behind a lady with a bunch of kids; knowing that the driver will most likely assume you belong to her. You get off at the stop, and walk two blocks to the free clinic. You tell with grumpy-faced nurse behind the frosted glass window that you need to see a doctor about something private. She shakes her head and mumbles under her breath but she puts you in a room like this one to wait. You're all by yourself in an exam room with a poster like that except, in that one, there's a tiny little baby upside down in the middle of the poster, so you start to think maybe it's okay to talk about that sort of thing here. You study the poster and lift your tee shirt to make sure your belly doesn't look swollen like that just because you kissed a boy and got a bra. You count the seconds that go by until the doctor shows up and by the time he does you've decided there has to be more to it than training bras and friendly kisses. You feel better for a little while, but then the dumb doctor comes in and he doesn't want to talk you either because you're just a little girl and little girl's shouldn't concern themselves with such things. And where's your mother anyway? Oh well, at least you saw the poster. You sneak back on the bus, and count the seconds until you get back to school, hoping maybe things will be normal by the time you get back there."

For a silent moment Harm is as still as a glass water. There are so many things wrong with the story she just told he doesn't even know where to start. He just stares at her; at least until he realizes that he's just staring at her. Then, not wanting to make her anymore uncomfortable than he knows she already is, he quick steps to her side and drops a protective arm around her shoulders.

Trying for levity, he teases. "That's not how it works Jarhead." He instantly regrets the next words out of his mouth. "God Mac! No wonder your body can't figure out how to be pregnant."

His brain starts screaming for him to shut up before he's even through speaking. Why in Hell did he say that? That's not funny! For one horrible second his mind flashes back to the argument they had two years ago.

Mac squints harshly at him, as silent as a stone, while he stammers idiotically; trying to get his tongue to form an apology, but before he can manage it she unexpectedly bursts out laughing. She throws her arms around him and buries her face in the front of his shirt and laughs so hard her body rocks gently against his.

He's not sure why she's laughing. It wasn't funny, and he's sure she knows that. Maybe she's laughing because she's just realized she's married to a moron. But at least she's laughing. He stands still and holds her close.

She's still laughing and several seconds later when a statuesque woman with short spiky blond hair, dark blue scrubs, and a white lab coat knocks quietly and enters the room. She glances at Mac and instantly finds her laughter contagious. The doctor's emerald eyes sparkle merrily despite her lack of context for the humor.

"Sarah…"

Mac waves apologetically; trying without much success to stifle her laughter.

"Well, this is a welcome change. It's nice to have you here with a smile on your face."

She then offers her attention and a firm handshake to Harm. "I'm Dr. Rebecca Thayer. You must be Harm?" She points good-naturedly as Mac's laughter finally begins to dry up. "I assume you're responsible for this?"

Harm flashes his best smile and admits. "I am… But it's not the response I should've gotten."

Mac touches his face tenderly. "Yes it is. You weren't trying to be mean." She smiles at the doctor with unmistakable pride in her eyes. "Yes Rebecca, this is Harm. He was just trying to lighten the mood in here. His mouth got away from him, but it worked out better than he thought it would."


	6. Laura Educates an Aging Flyboy

******Chapter 6: Laura Educates an Aging Flyboy**

**Author's Note: **I did not sit down at my writing desk intending for the previous chapter to take the unpleasant path it took. Since it did, I feel like we all need a cleansing breath before returning to the seriousness of the doctor's office… And since Byrthelm writes of crying in his beer over missing Laura; I feel obligated to check in on the affectionately dubbed unsinkable pixie. Be patient. She won't make her grand appearance immediately. I've been racking my brain for weeks now trying to think of a plausible way to invite some old friends back into the story and, by George, I think I finally got it! Get ready to laugh!

I'm also, taking a poll… Trish's gallery needs a name! I'd like it to be something catchy but classy; memorable but dignified. Supply the one I like best and you'll get due credit for your creativity.

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

Elizabeth Hawkes sits at a small table on the sidewalk outside the Muir Woods Coffee House and soaks up the afternoon's autumn sunlight while she sips a dirty chai latte. When the sun's position shifts slightly and its brighter rays are obscured by an awning overhead, she moves her sunglasses from her face to the top of her head and smiles at her companion. "This sure beats Germany. Might be hard to go back."

He returns her smile with one of his own. "How long are you here?"

She shrugs. "Hard to say. I requested three weeks. I might need longer."

"This aunt; the one who's sick… She raise you or something?"

"Or something."

He nods amiably and flashes his rakish smile before raising an eyebrow. "And what am I doing here?" He lets unspoken words hang heavy in the air between them.

She leans forward and takes a whiff of the brew in his coffee cup which is resting half full in the center of the small table. The smile she flashes is more evasive than coy; but somehow evasive isn't quite the right word either; even it lacks something. "Enjoying a cup of dark roast?" She tries.

His smile shifts into a bemused smirk.

"Watching half-naked college girls go by on the sidewalk?" She tries again.

He half rises and turns his seat to face the street then settles again. He extends his legs their full length and crosses his ankles; making himself comfortable to do just what she accuses him of for two beats before he whispers in a serious tone, "Not that oggling half-naked college girls isn't tops in entertainment, but don't play dumb Elizabeth. It doesn't suit you."

"Okay." She acquiesces; shifting her tone to match his own brand of bold sincerity. "Truth is, I heard you were around. I need a distraction. So I called."

He nods; finally satisfied with her answer. "A distraction from what?"

"It's not fun watching somebody you love die slowly Keeter. I know it was just supposed to be a weekend thing. Maybe I've gone a little crazy… but I need some company; okay?"

Without turning his gaze back to her, he's extends his arm, palm up, across the table between them and waits for her to place her hand in his. When she does, he gives it an easy squeeze and runs the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. "She's more than just sick then?"

In his peripheral vision he more senses than sees the pain that accompanies her silent nod. So, with his free hand he reaches for his coffee cup, drains it, puts it back in the center of the table, and then tucks a $10.00 bill from his pants pocket under the wide round saucer that is as big as a dessert plate. He rises to his feet, tugging her along with him. "So, let's go take a walk." He nods once toward the street; knowing it's time to change the subject.

She pauses only long enough to shoulder the tote bag she brought along and cocks her head to one side; studying him briefly. "You don't mind?"

"Mind what, being a distraction? Nah, I'm good at that!" He grins with his trademark confidence.

Skates throws back her head and laughs openly. "Yes you are!" She declares quietly after a beat; easily falling into step with him.

They walk hand in hand for more than half an hour taking in the sights of La Jolla. Stopping here and there to point at this or that along their way. With no clear destination in mind they wander through the art district aimlessly. They window shop, or more accurately, she window shops and he revels in the joys of being stateside with an attractive woman who wants his company and is mature and honest enough to say so.

Sidewalk sundries, the smell of food and suntan lotion in the air, and the sight of her watching street performers demonstrating a Celtic dance of some sort or other, leave him feeling pretty good. Germany sucks, he thinks. This is better!

She sips from a bottle of water and raises an eyebrow. "What are you grinning at?"

"You." He answers plainly before sidestepping a middle aged woman who's too busy fussing at her yapping fuzz ball of lap dog in a bright orange sweater to watch where she's going. He snickers quietly to himself, shaking his head until the woman is out of hearing range.

"Be nice." Skates admonishes lightly.

"I'm nice. It's 65° out here. She's got that little ankle biter all gussied up like he's going on an arctic expedition! That's why dogs bite people!"

She giggles quietly in spite of herself. "I have to agree with you there. I'm not much for dressing a dog up like a show pony."

They continue on their way and after a time she asks, "So, what are you doing here?"

"You called me." He teases. After a beat he shrugs and answers more honestly. "I got PCS'ed."

"Thought you were stuck in Germany for the foreseeable future. Seemed like you didn't want to say too much about it the last time we talked"

"Was stuck. Didn't want to talk about it. Can't talk about it. Still don't want to."

She smells a story but doesn't want to push too hard. Lightly she asks, "So, how did you get unstuck?"

"I've got no solid proof; but scuttlebutt says a certain Marine Colonel we both know had something to do with it. Word is, she chewed on somebody's six pretty viciously. Maybe threatened to be a one woman execution squad."

Hawkes stops walking for a moment and gives him a funny look. "Who's six, and about what?"

Keeter shrugs, almost as if he's bored but he's really not, and she knows it. "Some clown who works for the State Department."

Skates groans. "You really can't talk about it."

He shakes his head as they move down the sidewalk in front of the display window of a local art gallery. "Still don't want to." He repeats; vaguely aware of a woman and a small girl setting up a display.

"Okay." She says agreeably as they step passed. "Let's go into one of the restaurants on the corner." She points up ahead. I need to find a ladies…" she stops when he unexpectedly does. "What? What's the matter?"

A frown of mild confusion appears and vanishes from his face in the time it takes to blink. He stands still for a long moment; completely still. For a flicker in time he's a street performing human statute. She moves to stand in front of him.

"Keeter?"

He gives his head a small shake and opens his mouth to speak, then closes it; giving himself the appearance of someone trying to clear fluid trapped in his ears. Finally, a tentative smile teases the corners of his mouth and he backs up; tugging her along with him.

He turns his head and peers in through the gallery window at the familiar small girl. Laura O'Hara stares back at him with her own momentary expression of mild confusion that quickly becomes a wide smile.

He waves at her and she waves back; bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. The little girl's hair is held back away from her face by a hot pink bandanna and she uses the hand that isn't holding a feather duster to tug at the pocket of the lightweight summer jacket worn by the woman with her back to the window as she positions a covered easel. Trish Burnett turns, glancing first down at the child, and then out through the window when Laura points happily.

The stylishly dressed woman smiles warmly and beckons them inside, then she changes her mind briefly and signals for them to stay where they are. She holds up a hand, signaling wait and removes the drop cloth that covers a professionally mounted, and utterly captivating black and white photo of the desert sky at sunset. She repositions the easel; looking for the best angle and glances over her shoulder at the couple outside until Keeter catches on; realizing what she wants.

Using slight hand signals to direct her, he motions this way and that for a few seconds and she complies until he flashes his grin and gives her the thumbs up sign. He pauses long enough to really look at the photo and notices a small but bold cue card in the bottom left corner that announces a coming exhibit;' Rendezvous at the Mesa' by Chloe Madison.

Trish steps to the right inside the display window and removes another drop cloth from another display atop a long table. A series of both color and black and white photos depict both desert scenes, and candid shots of familiar faces. In the center of it all is a closeup of two hands joined; matching wedding bands clearly on display.

Keeter stretches his eyes wide and gives her half a nod of approval. Laura beckons for his attention and points out one photograph in particular. In the shot, the girl was held tightly in Skates' arms as she gazed up at him; the expressions on their faces mirror images.. Both Laura and Keeter were eyeing one another; a curious expression caught somewhere between a grimace and a smile shared between them.

Keeter turns his attention to Skates momentarily. "Well, that explains the photo release request I got via e-mail a few weeks ago explaining that no personal images would be offered for sale. The kid's good. Do you remember her taking that picture?"

Skates shakes her head. "No, photos with people's faces visible in them will only be used as crowd pleasers or bait. I got the same release, and no, I don't remember posing for it, but I've seen it. It's part of the small collection Mac sent me a few weeks ago."

Trish inclines her head slightly backwards and beckons them inside once more.

Keeter grins again and nods. He and Skates walk back to, and step inside the entryway of the upscale gallery where he leans in and whispers with as much discretion as a guy like Jack Keeter can manage, "I've never been in here. The place smells like a fancy museum… Floor polish, wood oil, potpourri, and do I smell coffee?"

She chuckles in mild exasperation. "You just had coffee!"

Trish approaches them laughing merrily with Laura at her side. She hugs them both and swats at his shoulder with maternal affection. "There's coffee in my office. You can't have any on the gallery floor. I've seen the messes you're capable of making." Just to annoy him, she smiles pleasantly and adds, "Elizabeth you may have coffee anywhere you like."

Skates lifts a shoulder and flashes him a look of mild defiance as if to say, "So there!"

He feigns disappointment. "Boy, you spill model airplane glue on the living room rug one time… 20 years ago… And she never forgets." His bright eyes dancing cheerfully, he stoops and kisses the woman's cheek in apology for his crimes.

"It was model airplane glue… and mustard. I still haven't figured out what you were doing with both at the same time." She clarifies, holding him responsible for both. "Ruined a very expensive rug."

"Would it help, or make things worse, if I told you there was a girl involved?"

Trish rolls her eyes. "Of course there was a girl involved." She says drolly. "You were breathing; weren't you?"

Not bothering to feign shame - she wouldn't buy it anyway - he grins proudly and scoops Laura up. "Kid, don't ever spill mustard… Or airplane glue… Or shoe polish… Or anything else that will leave the stain on this lady's floor. You'll never live it down."

"Laura doesn't make your kind of messes. On the rare occasion that she does make a mess, she admits it and apologizes." In a voice that tells him she is all-knowing she adds, "She doesn't try to blame it on her best friend."

"Now that's the part I haven't figured out yet! How do you know he didn't make the mess? He's certainly made his fair share."

"I know he took the fall for you. I know because anytime I had ever mentioned it since then, he simply apologizes. If Harm had actually done it himself, he would've started asking me years ago; 'Mom, are you ever going to let that go?' Not once has he ever complained about my nagging him over that. He did plenty, and he'll do plenty more before I'm old and dead…" She smiles. "But that one's entirely on you darling."

Keeter shrugs happily as he complies when she motions for them to follow. She leads them across the main floor, which is sparsely populated with early afternoon gallery goers, and then down a short corridor to a smaller viewing area, where she's preparing Chloe Madison's exhibit.

The ivory colored walls of the secondary room are banked with panoramic desert shots that steal the breath and stir the soul. Small green dots are discreetly noticeable beside a few of them. No people are featured in these photographs, although some contain images of wildlife or sparse desert flora.

Keeter walks slowly skirting the walls of the long wide room, while toting a reverently silence Laura on his hip. He wonders if she's been told to be quiet while in here, or if she's moved beyond words by the quiet beauty or the awesome power featured in the images that surround them.

Trish is busy in the center of the room, repositioning easels and doing other such things. Hawkes doesn't make a sound either as she walks beside him; except for the occasional sharp intake of breath when she sees something that surprises or pleases her.

Keeter has never really cared much for art but somehow he finds himself drawn outward as imagery calls forth memory. How does a spunky nineteen year old girl, who dresses with a flair for the audacious, understand that a helicopter can be, not only noisy and powerful; but also beautiful, even graceful. The bigger question is exactly how did she capture that on film? He remembers, all too clearly, that camera shutters were clicking all weekend in the background. Always as unobtrusively as possible but also frequently in rapid fire mode. He also can recall thinking that she didn't have time to see much, let alone focus on anything, as rapidly as her cameras had clicked and flashed. He realizes now how wrong that assumption was. She saw quite a lot, and what she saw was beautiful.

He pauses before a shot of the entrance to the cave at the top of Red Rock Mesa. He was there. He was in that cave and, at the time, it didn't seem like any big deal. Sure, it was one odd place to get ready for a wedding. Certainly the oddest he's ever been in. Yet somehow, the black and white photograph communicates mystery. Adventure beckons to the ten year old boy he used to be and he wants to go inside and explore.

Skates breathes audibly beside him and he glances at her face. For a flutter in time she looks as if she might cry. He seeks out the image responsible for this and grins. "Hey!" He whispers with hushed excitement. "It's the wedding crashers!"

She nods mutely and smiles at the image of two hawks. With their wings unfurled and stretched wide, one dives; the other ascending in a twilight sky.

Looking up from her duties, Trish quietly declares, "That's one of my favorites."

Keeter moves to the center of the room and finds a wide aisle cordoned off on either side by delicately braided and tasseled rope. Here, carefully placed easels that support photographs containing portraits of wedding guests enforce a one way path to the back wall of the room.

Sturgis' girlfriend, Verese was captured on a high note. Her sensual mouth opened in sweet song. There's also the Admiral and his amiable scowl. There are several photos of blonde children whose faces tell of their kinship; each of them a Roberts through and through. There's a Texas judge in his cowboy boots and string tie. He's arm in arm with his pretty wife; the redheaded baker. She looks like a baker too; pleasantly round in the middle from enjoying too many of her own confections. Harriett places a rose in Bud's lapel; a sweet tender expression visible in her eyes. Young Laura whispers a secret in Jennifer Coates' ear while, in another shot, her namesake wails; pink-faced and unhappy. There's a fat brown lizard plainly visible in the icing on top of her piece of wedding cake. Frank Burnett touches his wife's face with abiding devotion. He and Skates glide lightly across the dance floor. She was laughing at him. He can't remember why, but the photo pleases him; makes him happy.

The bride and groom are conspicuously absent in all of these photos and it strikes him as odd; yet somehow intentional. He understands why when he finally turns his gaze to the nearly life size image displayed, in its place of honor, alone on the back wall.

They stand tall, almost regal, their bodies turned toward the camera but their eyes only for each other. They embrace with quiet passion, a sweet kiss but a single breath away, at the westward facing edge of Red Rock Mesa. The glorious sunset behind them provides a flawless sky for the hawks to play in, while it causes his gold wings and her delicate dress to shimmer with a vibrant patina of soft golden light.

Laura sighs happily in his arms and offers him an affectionate hug that he hadn't quite expected. He pats her back and whispers, "The end." because they've reached the end of the exhibit. His only options are to leave the room through a nearby door, or turn and walk back through. The little girl wrinkles her nose with its light dusting of freckles and gives him a look that he's seen before. It is the one that lets him know that she's questioning his intelligence.

She glances at the photo of her aunt and uncle and then playfully thumps Keeter on the shoulder with mild exasperation. "It's not the end!" She lectures sweetly and rolls her eyes. It's the beginning. Don't you know nothin'?" The wedding only comes at the end in dumb fairy tales where all the girls are mistreated and all the boys are stupid!"

Jack Keeter thinks about what little he remembers of fairy tales and throws back his head and laughs; a big booming laugh that turns a few heads, and causes people in the other room to become even more quiet than they were before.

"Laura, I think you may be right." He says, charmed by her view of things.

"Course I'm right!" She bobs her chin with her signature emphatic nod. "I've read lots of fairy tales. And they're all dumb!" She shakes her head as if mystified. Every one of them. As soon as it gets good, the story ends… That sucks! Don't you wanna know what happened after the wedding? I always do!"

Keeter chuckles and flashes a devilish smile as he points at Trish and whispers loudly. "If I'd told you what happens after the wedding… she'd hit me over the head."

Laura passes a puzzled look to each of the adults in the room as Skates suddenly exclaims "Jack!" and Trish raises a stern eyebrow and shakes her finger at him. "You keep that up Mister, and I may hit you over the head whether you tell her or not! You may leave here… on a gurney." She informs him in a voice of deadly calm.

Concerned for a moment, Laura's head swivels as if she's watching a tennis match. Miss Trish looks serious. Keeter's trying to look serious, but he really wants to laugh.

"Dude! She's never looked at me like that! I think you better behave!" Laura coaches conspiratorially.

Keeter chuckles and whispers back. "I'll try, but it might be hard."

Laura sighs dramatically and shakes her head in exasperation. "Okay man… But if she hits you… You better put me down first… Or we're not friends anymore!"

"Hey Kid! Don't worry about it. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you."

"Better not! Aunt Mac will kick your butt!"

Keeter's grin fades into a cringe. "She'd do worse than that Kid… A lot worse! Hey…" He looks around as if missing something. "Where is the dynamic duo anyway?"

"I'm staying with Miss Trish today, until dinner time, 'cause they went to the doctor to talk about how to make a baby."

Skates giggles quietly as Keeter throws his head back and laughs loudly for a second time while Laura looks at him as if he's gone mad.

"What's wrong with you Keeter?" Laura scowls and shakes her head in wonder. "I didn't say anything funny."

"That uncle of yours just doesn't listen. I told him how to do that a long, long time ago!"


	7. Baby Blues

******Chapter 7: Baby Blues**

**Author's Note: **This chapter is my attempt to realistically address Mac's medical condition. Be warned, the subject discussed within is of a mature nature and will make some of you uncomfortable. Donald Bellisario didn't do women any favors when he chose to oversimplify her condition the way he did for the sake of sensationalism and ratings. This is the truth, as best I know how to tell it.

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

"So how's married life?" Dr. Rebecca Thayer talks over her shoulder as she washes her hands in the exam room's small sink.

Mac smiles at Harm and raises an eyebrow.

Feeling a bit on the spot; he flashes own his smile. "Hey, she's here to see you. Therefore, I assume she's talking to you."

Pitching a wad of cheap brown paper towel into the trash after drying her hands; the doctor shakes her head and interjects. "Actually, I'm talking to both of you. See, most husbands don't even show up for these appointments. If they do, the most I usually get is a head poked in the door as he hands her off to me."

With lively eyes set in an animated face she smiles and gestures with her hands as she explains, "So, here's how this works… if you poke your head in the door before you scurry away like a frightened little mouse, I say hello. If you stay while I consult with my patient, I talk to you. If you're man enough to stay through the exam, and I'm gonna get all up in your business."

Harm nods and offers another smile; this one mingled with a hint of uncertainty.

Mac chuckles and pats his bicep affectionately. "Actually, she's going to get all up in our business whether you're here or not."

The doctor nods affirmatively. "That's true too!" she declares merrily. She leans casually against the sink. "So, I repeat, how's married life?"

Harm gives Mac's shoulder a tender squeeze. "It's nice. I like it just fine." He admits softly.

The two women make eye contact. "It's not at all like I remember." Mac confesses with a hint of a smile.

The doctor tilts her head to one side comically and squints. "Is that good or bad Sarah?"

"It's phenomenal! That's what it is! Let's see, we've been married…umm… almost two months. Yes, Halloween will be two months. There've been a few raised voices, but I haven't yet screamed like a banshee. He hasn't spent the night on the couch. I haven't thrown anything heavy at his head, or thrown his car keys in the ocean. I haven't threatened to leave him for his best friend… which, I might add, is not likely to ever happen no matter how bad he gets. So… yep, things are pretty awesome!" she concludes with a wide satisfied grin."

"My goodness! If you'd managed to do half that in the first two months of marriage… Well honestly, I think I would suggest an annulment."

Mac waves the comment aside. "You don't understand. Last time, I managed to do all that in the first week of marriage! Marriage is different this time." She slips an arm around Harm's back and pulls him a bit closer.

The effervescent blonde shakes her head and chuckles. "Sarah, marriage hasn't changed for thousands of years. Maybe you're different."

"God, I hope so!" She breathes with enthusiasm.

"Did you really throw his car keys in the ocean?" Harm wants to know.

"Out of all the things I just mentioned, that's the one you question?" Mac raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah well, I've heard you scream before; though maybe not like a banshee. You've told me that you threw something at him, and I don't know which is less fathomable, the thought of you and Bud or the thought of you and Keeter. So, I'm not really worried about either." He grins. "But the car keys…" he runs his fingers through his hair and cups the back of his own neck.

"Actually, it was a lake, not an ocean but he was acting like a third rate jerk. I was mad. I had something to say and he was trying to leave. It wasn't really a conscious choice… no wait, that's not true, it was! I snatched his keys out of his hand and the lake was right there… So…" she pantomimes a slam dunk. "Anyway, I figure since there's an ocean in our backyard, if it ever does happen, that will probably be where." She smiles sweetly.

Harm turns slightly so that he can face her more directly and give her a moment of his undivided attention. "Mac, please don't ever throw my keys in the ocean." The statement is half plea; half quiet demand.

She shrugs happily. "Don't walk away from me when I'm yelling at you."

He nods slightly. "I'll try to remember that."

"Then I'll try to remember not to be a shrew." She acquiesces in a playful voice.

They turn their attention back to the doctor and she grins. "Things certainly seem good. Now that everyone's feeling a little more comfortable, let's talk seriously. How are you feeling physically?" While intending to give Mac a chance to answer, she steps forward and Harm takes ½ step to the side as the doctor begins to gently palpitate either side of Mac's neck with her fingertips; checking for swelling in the glands located there.

"I'm…" Mac stops; sensing that she's about to be shushed. She lifts her chin to allow better access and then waits until the doctor stops and offers her an apologetic smile.

"I know. Ask you to answer a question right when I need you to be quiet. We're as bad as dentist. They cram your mouth full of gauze, and then expect you to talk." She locates Mac's carotid artery and checks her pulse there with one hand and uses the other to do the same via the radial artery in her left wrist. She does this even though the nurse did the same less than fifteen minutes ago. After another moment of her patient's silence, she stretches her eyes wide and quietly teases, "It's alive!" as if she's auditioning for a zany horror flick.

Mac chuckles but otherwise ignores the comment. "I'm okay today. Been a bit tired… But I don't think there's anything to worry about. Between Harm relocating from London and Laura starting the school year I've been busy. We've all been busy."

The doctor nods. "How's work?"

"Same as it ever was."

"Still bored with it?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind so much anymore. Four months ago, when work was all I had, it was driving me insane."

Rebecca Thayer nods. "Getting your thrills elsewhere?" She lets innuendo hang heavy in the air.

Mac doesn't say anything. She lets her smile say it all.

"Not to be indelicate; but how is that? Any problems; discomfort... pain either during or after?

When a look of mild concern washes over Harm's face, Mac takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as she adamantly shakes her head in the negative.

"I'd have been in here like a hollow point from a high powered rifle if there were!" She continues mostly for Harm's benefit. "But Rebecca you and I talked about that before. So far the worst of my condition seems to be concentrated in my uterus or in the space directly behind it. The minute we know endometrial cells are crowding my cervical cap; you're going to send me for at least a partial hysterectomy because I am not going to accept that. Not even as badly as I want to keep my uterus!"

"I remember something about that. I read something about it in all that information you gave me a few years ago." Harm says; returning his arm to Mac's shoulders.

Her eyes go wide. She partially covers her face and giggles nervously. "Oops! Sorry, that was an accident! You weren't supposed to get that pamphlet… not back then."

Harm flashes his grin. "Yeah, I kind of figured."

"But what, you read it anyway." She elbows him softly.

"Well… not immediately. It took me a couple minutes to get over feeling like a 12 year old who knew he wasn't supposed to be watching his 17 year old neighbor get undressed." He admits sheepishly.

"Only a couple of minutes; huh?" His wife teases.

"Well gee Mac, any 12 year old boy with half a brain in his head knows he's not supposed to do that, but unless there's something seriously wrong with him; he does it anyway. Besides, I was hoping that might be something I would need to know about one day… You know; just in case. Before I found that brochure, I didn't know that might happen. Once I did know; then I had to keep reading. I wanted to know if there was anything I could do about it; if there was some way to make it better."

Mac gestures toward Harm with her hands. She rolls her eyes, shakes her head happily and smiles for her doctor's benefit. For his, she leans in a little closer and whispers, "Thank you."

He nods quietly; passing a curious look between the two women.

Mac interprets silently and then encourages, "What; just ask. She won't mind."

The good doctor shakes her head and opens her arms in an inviting manner while she flexes her fingers in a come hither fashion. "Don't mind at all. It's part of my job. You don't ask… I can't answer, and that doesn't help anyone."

"Well, the one thing I was never sure of, is why? What causes it?"

The doctor ponders his question for half a beat and then asks for a clarification. What causes Endometriosis, or why is it possible for Endometriosis to cause pain associated with intimacy?"

Harm pauses to think about it himself. "Either one. Some of the information I read was confusing. Some of it seemed to contradict itself. Is the problem in her uterus or isn't it?"

"That's where the problem originates." The doctor moves to sit in the only chair in the small room, places her elbows on her knees and clasps her hands in front of her, leaning forward in a way that invites conversation.

"Endometrial cells belong in the uterus. They reside there naturally. At the onset of a normal healthy pregnancy these cells cause a thickening of the uterine lining that supports and nourishes the pregnancy. In normal cases, when the pregnancy is over, the lining returns to normal. When Endometriosis develops, the same thickening begins to occur without the pregnancy. The cells grow, transform slightly, form scar tissue, spill outside the uterus and continue to grow. These cells don't belong outside the uterus. Once they are outside they can travel anywhere in the body, but usually remain in the pelvic region; most likely because of hormone production. You heard Sarah say that hers tends to remain localized in the area directly behind her uterus. Last I checked, a bit over six months ago, that was still true. She does have some minor scarring in her fallopian tubes but so far, it hasn't presented cause for concern. To date, that's not what bothers her. It's that recurring knot of endometrial scar tissue that's putting pressure on her lower spine. Many women who have this condition, especially in the advanced stages, have problems in the romance department. If, as Sarah said, endometrial cells crowd, or breach the cervical cap the next stop is the vaginal vault.. At that point, it would become possible for you to have contact with this misplaced tissue during intimate moments and when that happens… Well… things just aren't fun anymore. Once the condition becomes this severe, there's only so much we can do. There are medications that slow the development and help manage the symptoms. These medications often can have some pretty wicked side effects, the worst of which being a high rate of sterility. Sarah's been trying to hold onto what little chance she has to have a child. Often, the best treatment, is a partial or full hysterectomy, depending on which is warranted, before it gets to the point that it negatively affects your sex life. Removal of the uterus usually stops the progression."

Harm nods thoughtfully. "You said, these cells travel to areas of the body where they don't belong, transform slightly, and keep growing. To me, that sounds an awful lot like cancer."

Dr. Thayer grits her teeth and flexes her jaw at the same moment, giving herself the appearance of someone who has just stubbed their toe or smashed their thumb with a hammer and then she nods with understanding.

"Cancer begins as cell transformation. Some doctors will refer to Endometriosis as pre-cancer because there is a minor cell mutation involved; plus, having Endometriosis does increase Sarah's chances for cancer. However, it's not cancer and I don't like to call it pre-cancer because it scares my patients, it scares their husbands, it scares every single person who cares about them; often needlessly. Just because she has an increased risk does not mean that she will ever get cancer. Sarah became aware of her condition early. She takes care of herself and she comes to see me once every six months instead of once the year. She has some serious fertility issues, but she is okay, and we're going to do everything in our power to make sure she stays that way."

Harm nods. "I'm all for that!" he declares; hugging his wife to his side. "But what causes these cells to… overact… in the first place?"

"We don't know. If we knew that, we might be able to cure it instead of just treating it; managing it. Studies have been done. There are some similarities between women who have it, but nothing definitive."

At this point, he turns his gaze to Mac. "I don't even know, do you take any medication for this?"

Mac shakes her head. "Well… She has me on birth control ironically. It helps with the symptoms. It also makes my cycle slightly less erratic."

Even as he begins to laugh, it crosses his mind that he shouldn't. "I'm sorry. It's just…"

Mac reaches out and places a hand gently of his chest. "It's okay Harm. You can laugh. I know, it's crazy! I've got almost zero chance of becoming pregnant and I'm still taking the pill."

He looks at the ceiling and rolls his eyes before lifting her hand and placing a gentle kiss there.

Mac turns her attention back to the doctor. "That's what we want to talk to you about."

The other woman nods. "I figured as much."

Mac takes a deep breath and launches in. Is there any chance, do you think, that I could carry a child myself?"

Harm chooses, at this point, to sit down beside his wife on the edge of the exam table and put both arms around her.

The room is silent for a beat before the doctor softly says, "I can't recommend that Sarah." She pauses again to let that sink in.

Mac nods miserably and fists one hand in the front of Harm's shirt as he tightens his embrace and kisses the top of her head. "Tell us why… I mean specifically. I need to hear it." She scowls; screwing up her face with the effort not to cry.

Rebecca Thayer nods and makes her voice as gentle as possible. "In the first place, getting you pregnant would be exceedingly difficult. I know it's not what you want to hear but odds are, you'd spend a lot of time, a lot of energy, and a lot of money on a procedure that just isn't going to work. Not for you. Most likely, at the end you'd be financially destitute, childless, and heartbroken. If by some miracle, medical or otherwise, we were able to get you pregnant; it would not go the way you want. Conception is only the first step. After that, you'd have to carry that child and I'm sorry, but you just aren't going to be able to do that. I wish I could tell you differently, but I can't. Not after what I saw when we did your last procedure. The walls of your uterus are not stable enough for pregnancy. They've been weakened by the procedures you've had and because of the thickening your uterus has lost its natural elasticity. It's become rigid. Your body is not going to support a growing baby. If you were pregnant, that baby would put increasing pressure on your already compromised uterus. Sarah, you'd miscarry at best."

Wildly, erratically, but silently; Mac shakes her head as she clings to Harm.

"Sarah, if it hurts this bad just to hear it, how are you going to feel if it happens? And you need to bear in mind; I said that was at best. At worst, you'd be risking your own life; most likely because of hemorrhage due to a placental abruption."

The doctor watches them both shake their heads adamantly as they each wipe away the few tears the other one shed. Mac sniffles for a moment but then draws in a great breath and tries to be brave as she pats the arm around her middle.

"Then I guess we aren't doing that. I waited a long time to get him." She runs her fingers through Harm's hair. "I'm not planning on leaving for a long long time. Besides, Laura needs me. We already have her."

A thought occurs to her and for a moment, she gives all of her attention to Harm. "Maybe now isn't the time." She sighs heavily. "But we need to think about adopting her; officially. I have a guardianship, but what if something does happen to me; anything. Then, what happens to her? At the very least, we need to make sure the Child Welfare will let you keep her. I don't want her going to some stranger."

Harm gives her a pained smile and nods heartily before searching her face. He hadn't expected her to take bad news quite so well.

"I'll be okay… We'll be okay. I sort of knew it would go this way. But I still had to ask."

She gives them both a weak smile and the doctor nods.

"We'll take some time, when it feels right, we can talk about adoption." She squints and wrinkles her nose. "I mean… more than just Laura." She touches his face affectionately.

"I know what you meant." He whispers.

Dr. Thayer cuts in quietly. "We'd need to check again to be sure, but at your last visit, your ovaries were in good shape Sarah. It the two of you want to try surrogacy, it's not likely that you'd need an egg donor."

Harm keeps her close but leans back to raise an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

She gives him a look of uncertainty, nods her head, but then shrugs at the same time. "I want to, but I don't know Harm, . How are you supposed to ask somebody to do that for you? God, what an awesome and intimidating question!"

"You don't have to decide today. I'll send you home with some literature. You can think about it. You can ask someone you know personally, or you can hire a paid surrogate. We can talk about it more after we run some tests and after you make a decision. But I really should examine you. So you two need to decide if he is staying or going."

Harm slips from his perch on the edge of the table to stand upright once more. With gentle hands, he guides Mac as she swings her legs up onto the table and lies back. He turns his back on the doctor and smiles at his wife as he talks over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving her right now."


	8. Thunder & Lightning

******Chapter 8: Thunder and Lightning**

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the positive feedback on the last chapter. I'm pleased to know many of you appreciated it. Also, I'm very close to making my decision regarding the name of Trish's gallery. Anyone who wants to weigh in, or offer any additional suggestions, please do so soon. Thank you all again!

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

Trish checks the pork roast in the crock pot and listens to Laura's end of a phone call with concern.

"Umm okay. Do I have to?" The child asks sounding small and worried. She is quiet for a moment while she listens to whatever her mother is saying on the other end of the line. "No, not really… But Mom… I don't want to. Judge Wayne said I could stay here." Laura chews on the inside of her bottom lip as she listens.

Trish retrieves a stick of butter from the refrigerator so it will soften before dinner and eyes the girl with apprehension as she puts a pot of tea on to brew.

Suddenly, worry becomes fear, and fear gives way to anger that boils out of the small girl. "Mom, don't call me that. I hate it when you call me that… And it's not fair." Frightened tears start to flow as she screams into the phone before abruptly ending the call. "It's not my fault! I didn't do anything bad! You did!"

Laura drops the small receiver for the household's cordless phone on the floor, grabs her walker and is off like a shot before Trish can cross the short space between them. She chases after the girl and stops abruptly; rocking on the balls of her feet when Laura's bedroom door slams a mere inch from her face.

Stunned for a beat, she mutters to herself. "Well… it's been a few years since that's happened! She steadies herself mentally, counts to three, and knocks lightly. She waits.

Laura's dog, Candy, comes to stand beside her. The dog sniffs at the bottom of the door, whimpers mournfully, and turns her mellow brown eyes to Trish expectantly. When there is no answer to her knock, Trish pats the dog's head affectionately and turns the knob.

She peeks in, expecting to see Laura curled up on her bed, but the girl is not there. The dog paws at the door which is not yet open wide enough for her to squeeze through. Stepping in, Trish doesn't have to search the room because the Labrador goes straight to the closed closet door and whines. She half rises on her hind legs and uses a paw to push down the spring loaded doorknob. Then the dog grabs a short length of rope with a tennis ball attached to the end, which is secured to the doorknob, and tugs the door open. She lets herself in three steps ahead of Trish who stands at the now open door and peers around the jam as the big dog lays down, placing her fore paws and her large head squarely across the little girl's slender lap.

Laura wraps her arms around the dog and buries her face in Candy's fur as Trish taps lightly on the door frame.

Although her words are muffled, Trish hears. "Go away please." Laura sobs miserably. I don't wanna talk to nobody right now."

Trish stays in the doorway; tilting her head to one side. "I don't think that would be very nice of me." She answers softly.

Laura lifts her angry tear streaked face and it's clear that she's also puzzled; curious, in spite of her present mood. She wipes her eyes against the arm of her long sleeve tee shirt and asks pitifully, "Why not?"

"Because I don't think it's very kind to let somebody you love sit in a dark closet and cry all by themselves. That's not how family works."

Laura raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"Well, that's not how my family works." She offers the girl a smile. "Can you please come out here so we can talk?"

Laura thinks about this request seriously for a moment and then asks tearfully, "Do I have to? I wanna stay here."

Trish briefly considers enforcing the request and then thinks better of it. Instead, she sighs and steps into the closet. Joining the girl on the floor, she slowly and carefully folds herself into a corner. Obviously perplexed; Laura watches her. When Trish it is as comfortable as she know she's going to get in the cramped space, she reaches out for the girl and Laura scoots into her lap somewhat tentatively.

Trish lifts her slightly and settles her again in a position more comfortable for both of them, then wraps her arms around the small girl, and kisses the top of her head. "There now. Is that better?" She asks as Candy moves closer too; making sure she's still close enough to pet.

With obvious confusion in her eyes, Laura rubs the dog's ear and twists her neck awkwardly to be able to look up at the woman. "Nobody besides Candy ever got in the closet with me before." She whispers; sounding slightly in awe.

Trish chuckles lightly and hugs the girl closer. "Yes well, somebody has now. It's not good to sit by yourself in closets crying too often. With the rare exception, that's usually an unhealthy thing to do."

Laura squints. "I'm not sure what you mean. Is there some time when it is healthy?" She sniffles; still sounding small and confused.

"Only when you just really need a good cry, and you don't want to scare the kid asleep down the hall."

"Miss Trish, I don't understand. No kids live at your house." Laura's confused frown deepens.

"Not now Darling, but one used to, a long time ago. Six year old little boys don't like it when Mom cries. It scares them."

Laura thinks this over for a long moment. "I used to hide so people couldn't scare me. My mom doesn't cry. She just yells; a lot!" She nods meekly; with only a fraction of her usual enthusiasm. "Hiding so you don't scare somebody else; 'specially a little kid. That's better. Wish my mom would do that." Laura sniffles again.

Trish searches the pockets of her slacks and comes up with a rumpled but clean tissue and holds it to the girl's nose. After a few seconds of wiping away tears and snot she asks gently, "Suppose you tell me what this is all about?"

Laura grimaces. "I like it here. I don't wanna go live with Mom." She folds her arms over her small chest.

"Laura, say that again." Trish queries; certain she misunderstood something.

Laura's exasperated breath comes out in a huff. "I said, I like it here. I don't wanna go live in jail with Mom. I didn't do nothing bad. I didn't hurt that police man. She did. And anyways, Derek's been to jail. He said that place smells bad and the food tastes really yucky. I don't wanna live there. I'll starve Miss Trish! Can you call Judge Wayne? He'll fix it. He won't make me go live there!"

Trish can't help but chuckle, so she hugs the girl a little tighter. When she can, she says "Laura Darling, I'm not sure how exactly, but you've misunderstood something."

"Na uh… Mom says she got… vas-tation…" Laura tries hard to get the word right; scowling with the effort. "Privileges and now she wants me to come be with her. I don't wanna go! Can she make me?"

"Ahh… Now I see the problem. Laura, you mean visitation privileges. That means, your mother is allowed to have people come visit her… Not live with her. You'll go there, you'll visit, and when the visit is over, you'll come home; back here, safe and sound with Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm."

"Oh… Really?"

"Yes Darling; really."

"I still don't wanna go!" Laura shakes her head vehemently; feeling a lot better and sounding more like her usual self. "Not even to visit… What if she tries to keep me? Do I have to?"

"Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are in charge, so it's up to them if you go or don't go. She can't keep you. She's not even allowed to try. If you do go visit, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Because, if anything did, your aunt Mac and your uncle Harm would cloud up in rain all over whoever was responsible, and I personally would get God to supply the thunder and lightning!"

Laura giggles and sounds a bit mystified when she asks, "You can do that?"

"Let anybody even try to mess with my girl and they'll find out!"

"When's Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm coming back from the doctor?"

Trish squints at her wrist watch in the dark closet.

Laura notices this and puts a bit of authority in her small voice. "Candy." She waits for the dog to pick up her head and make eye contact, then she points and says, "Light switch!" The big black dog hesitates only for a second then crosses the small closet, stands on her hind legs, and pushes the closet's light switch up with her nose.

Trish shakes her head. "Laura, your dog gets more impressive every day I spend with her." She glances at the watch again and answers, "They should be back any time now." She doesn't tell the girl that they are later than she expected. There's no need to alarm her… And perhaps Harm and Mac needed some time to themselves after the appointment she reasons silently.

"Are we waiting for them… Cuz I'm hungry now."

She hugs the girl one last time and then sets her on her feet. "I bet you are." She says; getting to her own feet again. "A good cry will do that to a girl."

As they cross the closet's threshold, Trish can hear the front door opening and her son's voice calls out. "Anybody home?"


	9. The Birds & the Bees Marine Style

**Chapter 9: The Birds and the Bees; Marine Style**

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

By the time Trish makes it into the living room with Laura on her hip and Candy following close behind, Harm a shutting off the burner under the angry sounding tea kettle. When he helps himself to a fresh baked oatmeal cookie, still warm in the middle, from the cooling rack, Trish wordlessly takes it away from him and he glances at his suddenly empty hand with a bereft expression that makes his wife giggle quietly. Mac covers her mouth; attempting discretion when he raises a mildly scornful eyebrow in jest.

"Those are for an after dinner Uncle Harm; not before." Laura explains sweetly.

He already knows that darling." Trish declares offering her son an unpleasant smirk as she returns the cookie to its place on the cooling rack.

Mac steps in close to the other two females and runs her fingers through Laura's hair affectionately as Trish lowers the girl onto a bar stool. "You okay Baby? You look a bit tear stained."

"I'm okay now." Laura says as Trish notices sadly that Laura isn't the only person in the room who looks a bit tear stained. In fact, she's only one of three, but before she can ask any questions Laura's comment draws a questioning look from Mac and instead of asking questions, Trish supplies quietly, "Your sister called… Bit of a misunderstanding, but it's okay now."

Laura grimaces. "Yeah, I'm just dumb; that's all."

Shocked by the unwarranted declaration; all three adults object at once. "Hey!" Harm instantly forgets any desire he had for cookies while Mac exclaims, "No you're not!" Trish joins in with, "Laura, I don't want to hear you say that ever again! You're a very smart little girl!"

Unaccustomed to being corrected by even one person for saying negative things about herself, Laura comically pantomimes a duck and cover maneuver. "Okay, okay, okay!" She giggles nervously. "You don't have to yell guys. My leg's messed up. My ears work fine."

Harm leans on his elbows on the opposite side of the bar from her, gently calls her name, and waits for her to peek out from behind the arms folded over her head. "Sweetheart, we didn't mean to yell, or startle you. You just surprised us. There aren't any dumb people in this house… Okay."

"Laura, darling, you just got a little confused; that's all. That doesn't make you dumb." Trish turns her attention to both Mac and Harm. "Her mother called to say she's been given visitation privileges…"

"She asked me to come be with her. I thought she meant live with her… In the jail!" Laura fills in the rest.

Mac hugs the girl tenderly. "Pretty scary thought, huh?"

Laura nods vigorously.

"I would've thought she'd have visitation privileges before now." Trish queries.

Mac nods. "She did have. They were revoked as punishment for bad behavior before she'd been there a month."

Trish opens her mouth to ask why, then glances at Laura and thinks better of it. When she doesn't ask the expected question, Mac gives a slight nod and smiles with appreciation.

For a moment, Laura glances back and forth between the two women then shrugs and asks a question of her own. "Do I have to go visit? I don't want to."

"No." and, "Not if you don't want to." Mac and Harm answer at the same time; respectively.

Mac offers Harm a smile to go along with her look of mild surprise.

He raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you disagree."

She shakes her head adamantly. "I just thought you might need a little persuading. You and I have different views on family. You were all for me going to see Joe a few years back. Not that you were wrong, but…"

"Mac, that was completely different. Your dad was in a hospice. He was dying, and he reached out to you. You needed some kind of closure. Plus, you were an adult. I'm a grown man and a navy lawyer, and stepping into a brig makes me uncomfortable; no matter how many times I've done it. She's a little girl. Plus, it's entirely Casey's fault she's in there. Family aside, Laura shouldn't have to suffer for that."

He turns his full attention back to Laura. "Sweetheart, you don't have to go if you don't want to. We won't make you. But, if you ever change your mind; if you decide you want to go see your mom, you just let us know. We'll take you; if you want to go."

Laura is silent for a moment of serious contemplation and she scowls with the effort of it before she says "I don't wanna go." She shakes her head adamantly. She looks at Mac curiously to be certain that they're really in agreement and then smiles, fully recovered from her sour mood, when Mac nods.

"Then, you don't have to." Mac assures her.

Laura nods and switches gears more rapidly than anyone expected. Satisfied, and finally completely at ease, she changes the subject without preamble. "So… Are we getting a baby; or what?" She eyes her aunt and uncle with extreme seriousness.

Trish bites her bottom lip to keep from chuckling nervously. She's been busy trying to think up a delicate way to ask the same question. Leave it to Laura!"

She notices the glimmer of sadness that belies her son's smile when he answers. "Yes. We are… It's just going to go a little differently than we wanted it to." He moves around the island countertop and drops a comforting arm around Mac's waist.

"Why is it going to go different?"

"Because…" Mac answers. I can't have the baby myself. That means, we're either going to adopt, or we're going to find a surrogate."

Laura scowls and shakes her head in confusion. "Is that word English? I never heard that word before."

Mac kneels in front of the girl and holds both her hands. " Laura, a surrogate. Is a stand in; one person who does something important for another person when they are unable to. In this case, Harm and I will be looking for someone suitable to carry a child for us."

Laura wrinkles her nose. "Do you have to adopt the baby after it comes?"

"No, with a surrogate, there's no adoption because the baby would be ours from the beginning."

Laura frowns deeply. "Mom says the baby has to stay in the mommy's tummy until it's ready to come out because until then, it can't live without the mom."

Mac nods patiently. "That's right."

Laura passes a look of utter confusion between Mac and Harm. "So, they're going to take the baby out of you? And put it in somebody else? Won't that hurt the baby?"

Mac squints. "That's not exactly how it works. The baby won't ever be inside me because there's a place inside where moms carry their babies before they're born. Only, that place, inside me… Well, it's messed up. No baby can live inside me."

Laura shakes her head vehemently. "I'm confused! I already know you got something wrong inside you. You told me. That big word. Endo… something; but, if you can't keep the baby inside you, how do you put it inside somebody else."

Mac bites her lower lip. It's hard enough explaining this stuff to a small child when everything is perfectly normal. She pauses a moment to choose her next words carefully and while she's at it, she reaches for Harm's hand. He goes down on one knee beside her and pats Laura's knee affectionately as Mac offers a nervous smile to his mother.

The older woman smiles in support and shrugs. "You're doing better than you think you are." She assures in a hushed voice.

"First Baby, that big word is Endo-me-tri-osis." Mac enunciates carefully. "And it's alright if it's hard for you to remember that for say it. Now…" Mac mentally crosses her fingers; hoping she'll get this right.

"Making babies is something special. You have to have both a mom and a dad. Neither one can do it by themselves because they each have part of what makes the baby inside them. If we do use a surrogate, instead of adopting a baby, we'll need a doctor's help. The doctor will take the part of a baby that comes to me and the part of a baby that comes from Uncle Harm and put them together. Then, with a little luck and maybe a little magic too, these two parts will get together and make the start of one baby. It'll be teenie tiny; so tiny you need a microscope to even see it. If everything works out the way we want, the doctor will put the brand new tiny baby inside the surrogate and we'll all hope that baby likes its new place and decides to stay in there and grow until it's ready to be born."

Laura squints, smiles, frowns, wrinkles her nose and tilts her head from one side to the other while she thinks. After a very long pause she announces with gusto, "Sounds like a science experiment!"

Harm and Mac cling to each other as they laugh.

"What?" Laura wants to know. "I'm perfectly serious! It sounds like a science experiment!"

Trish rests her hands on either of Laura's shoulders and kisses the top of the girl's head as Mac says, "Laura, it kind of… is… a science experiment."

Harm tucks a stray lock of Laura's hair behind her ear. "Do you want to ask any more questions Sweetheart?"

Laura's eyes stretch wide. "Yeah! Will it be a boy or girl?"

He grins. "We can't know that yet, not for sure… But your Aunt Mac's dreams lead me to believe he will be a boy."

Mac reaches over and pinches Harm on his bicep.

"Ow! What was that for Jarhead?" Harm rubs the smarting spot on his arm.

Mac grins wickedly. "Don't tell her that Squid. In the first place, there's no guarantee that the surrogacy will work. It may not. And in the second place, I told you, even I don't know for sure… Laura Baby, if things don't work out exactly the way Uncle Harm says, I don't want you to be disappointed. We may have to adopt, or the baby I dreamed about might be a little girl."

Laura tilts her head to one side; thinking hard. "But, you had a dream about a boy?"

"I did. But most of the time, dreams are just dreams… And that's all."

Harm shakes his head and flashes his smile again. "Don't you listen to her Sweetheart. She has trouble believing in herself…"

Laughing with exasperation; Mac exclaims, "Harm!"

Laura smiles at them. "But you believe Uncle Harm?"

"Kid you can bet your walker on it! Your aunt's dreams have saved my hide more than once! If she says she's dreaming about a boy; he'll be a boy!"

Harm winks as Mac protests yet again. "Really Harm! If she winds up disappointed, I'm gonna kick your six!" She laughs in spite of the threat.

Joining in with the laughter, Trish raises an eyebrow. "She has dreams? As in plural… as in more than just once."

"Boy does she ever!" Harm confirms and Mac groans in mild agony. He ignores the guttural noise from the back of her throat. "Mom, this lady has dreams that find the lost, locate and rescue drowning men, and apparently she already knows what your grandson will look like when he's approximately two years old."

Trish raises a curious eyebrow, but smiles. In response, Mac groans again and covers her face and head with her arms as Laura had done moments before.

"Harm, really… Stop it. Please." Her voice is muffled. "Don't make me wish I had never told you about that! I don't want you to be upset if you wind up with someone completely different!"

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. "Not gonna happen." He whispers. "No matter who we wind up with. I'll be thrilled, no matter who or how; I promise." He kisses her lips lightly.

Laura playfully thumps the backs of her high top sneakers against one of the wooden wrungs of the bar stool she's sitting on and then goes completely still when a thought occurs to her. She frowns and asks with worry in her voice." After he comes; does he get my room? Where am I gonna live then?"

The adults in the room look at her in astonishment. Harm scoops her up and sets her down again on top of the bar; leaning forward on his elbows once more as he talks to her. He shakes his head. I'll make a new room for the baby; whenever he comes. Your room is yours… Forever. You stay here with us. No matter who comes next, you were here first. Nobody is sending you away just because somebody new comes. No matter what happens, you'll always have a place with us; got it?

Laura smiles and throws her arms around his neck. "Got it!" She says happily and snuggles close.


	10. Food for Thought

**Chapter 10: Food For Thought**

**Author's Note: **Dear Annie, please rest assured that Laura has not been, as you say, muzzled by writer's privilege or by any other means. She's having a rough night. Any child in her situation might first be focused on their own well being. She needed to know she wasn't going to live with Mom. Then, she needed to know she wasn't going to be ousted if, and when, the newest member of the family arrives. These are very real, not to mention very scary thoughts for someone in Laura's position. I am confident that when she is completely at peace all manner of questions regarding the "science experiment" will commence. How much do you wanna bet she'll ask some of them at the most inopportune moments?

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

While Harm and Mac both tend to Laura, making sure the girl is convinced that she will remain well cared for and safe, Trish steps away to answer the knock at the front door. Opening it, she smiles at her husband and kisses his cheek.

"What did the doctor say?" He asks in a hushed voice without stepping in.

Trish sadly shakes her head and quietly breathes. "I don't know the exact details but I know it wasn't good. Laura's mother called a short while ago and upset the apple cart. The poor darling ran and hid in the closet. I had only just managed to get her out when they arrived, so we've all been cleaning up the mess Casey made with Laura. They really haven't had time to explain; only to tell Laura that it will either be surrogacy or adoption."

"Ahh damn." he shakes his head; hope asunder and whispers in her ear. "Are you sure we should stay?" He waits for her to nod before he steps over the threshold. "Are they really up for a family dinner tonight? Maybe we should take Laura home with us; give them a chance to be alone."

She pats his shoulder affectionately. "They were later getting back than I expected. Judging by the looks of them, I'll wager they stopped somewhere and had a good cry. They're trying hard to smile and stay positive; maybe for Laura's sake… maybe for their own. I just asked. Harm said stay. Maybe we can lend support. Push them in a positive direction; or at the very least, take their minds off of it for a little while."

"Okay, I'm game." He says quietly as he picks a piece of lint off the shoulder of her summer weight sweater and then makes his presence known by loudly clapping his hands together once. Stepping into action, like a man with a plan, he grins and holds his arms open wide. "Where's my girl?" He smiles warmly at Laura who is still sitting atop the kitchen bar while Trish closes the front door after him.

The girl offers him a smile of her own and reaches out for him. "Mr. Frank!"

He scoops her up and hugs her tightly. "What have you and Miss Trish been up to today? Did you keep her in line?" Frank claps a hand on Harm's shoulder in greeting and offers Mac a one armed hug before helping himself to a bar stool and settling Laura on his lap.

Laura giggles and begins filling him and on her afternoon; rarely stopping for a breath as she enlightens him.

"Mr. Frank nobody has to watch Miss Trish. She's good. She's really busy too! First, she picked me up after school. She even got to talk to Liam for a minute. We went and got me a Halloween costume. The best one ever! I get to be Snoopy. Snoopy is awesome!" She declares with wide, happy eyes accompanied by her signature chin bob before rambling on. "She even made sure my costume will fit over my brace. Then we went to the gallery. There were lots of people in there today and she let me help her set up Chloe's exhibit. It's almost ready. I can't wait for Chloe to be here. I think it would be really neat to have an art exhibit on Halloween. I bet Chloe is super excited! All the pictures are so pretty, After we came home, we started making dinner and she let me help bake cookies! I've never made real cookies before. Mom and Mimi just by the ones in the store. Then my mom called." The ugly grimace that passes over Laura's face is a fleeting thing, by her own estimation; she has more important things to talk about so she plows on; largely undeterred. "Uncle Harm tried to steal one of the cookies when he got home, but he's too slow for Miss Trish! Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac have to do a science experiment if they wanna have their own baby, but I hope it works! Aunt Mac says they might need a little magic." She pauses long enough to shrug as if she's not worried. "Uncle Harm says he knows everything will be okay, 'cause he believes in Aunt Mac's dreams; even if she doesn't!" Laura tilts her head to one side and breathes deeply. Let's see… I don't think I forgot nothin'. No, that's it. I'm done!" She bobs her chin again in conclusion, but before Frank, or anyone else, can comment on anything that she said she declares with excitement, "Wait, I did forget! Uncle Harm said I get to stay even after the new baby comes, 'cause I was here first! And… We saw Skates and Keeter today!" She briefly turns her attention to Harm. "Uncle Harm, Keeter wants to know how come you have to talk to the doctor about making a baby. He says that you don't listen. He says that he told you how to do that a long time ago!"

After Laura had begun telling her tale, Mac had stepped into the kitchen to help out with what was left of dinner preparation. She now pauses, hot buttered knife midair and laughs aloud. Harm nearly chokes on the, still hot from the oven, roll he's just swiped from her.

Mac thumps him lightly on the back and offers him a paper napkin. When he can, he says "I didn't know he was here, or Skates' either for that matter, but Laura I hope you told that troublemaker to mind his own business!"

Laura shrugs and shakes her head negatively. "I didn't! But… Miss Trish told him if he didn't behave he might leave her gallery on a gurney! Uncle Harm, did he really spill airplane glue and mustard on your mom's rug? Miss Trish says that you took the blame, but she knows it was him."

Harm glances at his mother somewhat sheepishly before he quietly admits, "Yeah, he really did."

With a profound lack of surprise, Trish hands her husband a prepared plate. "Let's move this to the table; shall we?"

The small cottage is permeated with the aroma of slow cook ribs as they all move to the table; plates in hand. Frank deposits Laura in the chair next to his and his wife quickly sets to work cutting the child's meat into bite size pieces. As they settle in, Laura's mind returns to their previous conversation.

Thinking hard, she squints and purses her lips before asking, "Hey Aunt Mac, who gets to be the surrogate? Do you get to pick, or does the doctor?" Laura pushes up the sleeves of her long sleeve tee shirt, picks up her fork, and waits expectantly for an answer.

Mac has to pause her own thoughts as she takes a sip of iced tea. "It's a little of both. Uncle Harm and I get to pick people we'd like, but then the doctor has to run some tests to make sure they're medically suitable."

Laura squints again and all the adults can see she's thinking very seriously. After a protracted moment, she declares with absolute certainty, "I don't know what medically suitable means, but I vote for Miss Harriett. She loves you, and she's good at making babies too; she's got lots of them!"

Laughing, as are the rest of the adults in the room, Mac sets down her glass and takes Harm's hand. "Actually, Harriett was one of the first people to come to mind. Harm and I talked about it this afternoon. But, she lives 3000 miles away and as you so aptly pointed out Laura, she already has lots of babies to take care of. I'm not sure it's fair of us to even ask her. She's a very busy lady."

Trish sets down her fork. "If I may weigh in…" She waits for both Harm and Mac to nod consent before she continues. "If you wait for the person whom it's fair to ask; I'm not sure you'll ever ask anyone. I also understand the reasons you might be inclined to exclude Harriett. She is an extremely busy woman with four children under the age of ten, but that also speaks to her suitability. I know she and Bud lost a child, but if memory serves, that was through no fault of their own. She's proven that she can manage to be pregnant in the midst of the chaos that only children can bring. That and well, frankly put, Laura's right. Each one of her children is healthy, well looked after, and happy. I'm quite certain there is a rigorous screening process set in place for surrogates. There simply has to be. But I don't particularly care how rigorous that process is. Were I going to ask someone to do that for me I would not only want them to pass through that screening process, but I would want them to be someone I knew personally; someone I could trust intimately. After all, this is your child and my grandchild we're talking about."


	11. Mattie

**Chapter 11: Mattie**

**Author's Note: **Annie, absolutely no offense was taken. Just thought I might respond. You seemed concerned.

Also, what do you guys think of the avatar associated with this story? An artist friend of mine decided to officially give young Laura a face.

On another note, this chapter is a tough one. Grab a box of Kleenex and consider yourselves warned. I've needed to get to this for several months now.

* * *

Tuesday, October 28, 2007

When dinner with Trish and Frank was over Harm and Mac Harm did their best to remain upbeat until after Laura was in bed. That done, they sat quietly in each other's company, together but apart; each of them suddenly too spent to talk anymore about the disappointing day they've had. They comforted each other with their presence only; each one lost in their own private thoughts.

Harm remembers the two of them drifting into bed. He'd fallen into a restless sleep; his head filled with thoughts that he both did and did not want to share. He was afraid to. Sleep had been brief for him, brief and unfulfilling. He'd given it up lost for more than two hours ago and gotten out of bed; desperate for something to occupy his unquiet mind lest he should wake Mac.

Lost in both his thoughts and his work, he is momentarily shocked when Mac's bare feet come into view in his peripheral vision. He'd been so absorbed in his own thoughts; he hadn't even heard her approach. Not that bare feet on ceramic tile make much noise.

He turns his head and glances up at her while on his hands and knees on the new bathroom floor. He stops what he's doing and sits back on his heels. "Mac, what are you doing out of bed. It's really late." He wipes his bare arm across his face.

"I came looking for you. I woke up when I realized your side of the bed was cold." She's careful to stand close enough to be heard at a whisper, yet far enough away so as not to step in the wet grout Harm is spreading over the new tiles. "Harm it's after 0200. Can't this wait for daylight?"

"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to lay there and toss and turn. I would've woken you."

Her hands resting on her hips, she smiles with a touch of irony and yet says very gently, "If your plan was that working in here would keep you from waking me… I think something went wrong,"

"I'm sorry. Am I making noise? It's just a bucket and a sponge." he says gesturing toward the bucket within easy reach with one hand, and holding up the sponge up in the other.

Up until this moment, she thought maybe it was her imagination. Now she is certain that it is not. He won't quite meet her eyes. He hasn't for several hours; not even before bed. She tilts her head to one side studying him; the reason for his behavior elusive and just out of her grasp but still causing her intuition to prickle slightly. "Harm, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He lies; the hint of something hard in his voice; something he can't quite keep locked away. He inhales deeply. "Go on back to bed." He says with more affection. "Try to get some sleep. You have work tomorrow

She kneels and whispers. "Harm?" she waits silently; determined to stay as long as it takes. When he finally gives her his eyes she is nearly knocked off balance by the anger that radiates from them.

Instantly worried, the first thought in her head is, 'What did I do?' Though it feels longer, it only takes her a second or two to set that thought aside. Whether she will admit it or not, she usually knows when she's done something wrong. She doesn't usually have to question it.

"Wow, okay!" She lets out a breath she hadn't consciously chosen to hold in. "I'm usually the one who's up at all hours of the night looking for something, anything, to do because I'm too mad or too scared to sleep."

His only reply is a grimace.

"Hey Flyboy… Talk to me okay? Please? This is a little weird." She admits nervously. "I can't remember the last time I saw you this pissed off." Inside her head her own voice whispers, " Liar!"

"I'm not mad at you."

She nods and breathes quietly. "That's a minor relief. You look mad enough to set something on fire. Who are you mad at?"

"Can you just go back to bed?" He tries again.

Without even pausing to think about it, she shakes her head silently. She's not the only one who remembers the last time. He does too. And now it's the invisible baby elephant in the middle of the room and Mac is determined not to let it grow to mammoth proportion; or at the very least, not to run from it. Not this time.

He tosses the sponge in the bucket with more than enough force to agitate the dirty water within. For a second, he glares at her but he can't maintain it. It's not her fault. None of this is her fault. Still, he wishes he didn't feel trapped in this brand new room with her with their old hurts between them. "Do you have to be so damn stubborn?"

She nods with empathetic eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't last time. At least, not when I should have been."

He squints at her for a second before quietly giving in. "I'm mad at myself… Okay?"

"Okay." She answers calmly. "Why?"

"Because this isn't how you wanted to do this. I screwed it up." He says angrily.

Mac looks around; confused. "What, the bathroom?"

"No." He says with frustration. "The surrogacy. You wanted to carry. I know that. I waited too long."

She nods slowly as comprehension dawns. "Harm, you're only half right. You didn't wait too long. We did. This isn't all on you. Those are some impressive shoulders you got there Flyboy, but even they weren't meant to carry the weight of the world; not all by themselves."

"I wish you'd gone through with your plans a year and 1/2 ago."

"I don't believe you." She fires back. More gently she says, "That's not what you said a week ago."

"Yeah, I know, but a week ago we didn't know it was too late. You could have been pregnant if you've gone through with it."

"Harm, there's no way you can know that. It's entirely possible that if I had tried, it wouldn't have worked. But that's a moot point anyway. I didn't want to try… not without you. I don't regret that decision. Not even now, and I never will."

"It's still my fault."

She can't help but laugh. "Please tell me how my rotten uterus is your fault."

"Not that. Mac, that's not anybody's fault. That just… is."

Amazed at his logic, she stands and leans against the wall to the right of the door. "I wish I could accept it that easily." She says flatly. "It feels like my fault."

Mildly stunned, he gives her a bizarre look. "The doctor said they don't know what causes it. How can it be your fault?"

"They don't know what causes it. They do know there are a lot of things that exacerbate it. Things like, waiting until later in life to have children. Stress, caffeine… alcoholism." She looks at her hands. "I waited on purpose. None of the men in my past were right. I didn't want to have a child with any of them… Not even Christopher. But the rest of it, Harm… I was making it worse."

Mindful of the wet grout, he finally rises to his full height, carefully crosses the room, and pulls her close, folding his arms around her tightly. "If you didn't want a child with any of them, then waiting was the best thing to do. As for stress, caffeine, and alcohol… Mac there probably isn't anything in this life those three things don't make a worse. Most of us know this, and yet we do the things we do anyway. That doesn't make you guilty so much as it makes you human. No good will come of beating yourself up."

She tips her head back awkwardly to look up at him. "I shouldn't beat up on myself. But it's okay if you do it? You've got some warped logic Flyboy." She lays her head on his shoulder.

"That's different. If I hadn't gotten mad, lost my temper, acted like a complete ass two years ago…"

Mac picks her head up and takes his face in both of her hands. "No! You stop it right now! You'd never ever ever ever ever ever ever have to apologize for loving her, for missing her, or for being sad or angry because she's not here anymore."

"I shouldn't have chased you off. If I hadn't, we might have had time."

"Again… Still not all your fault! I didn't have to go. I chose to go. I chose to stay gone as long as I did. You had to feel what you felt. You still do. And sometimes that all just has to come out. No one has taught me that better than you Harm."

"It still pisses me off. I guess I needed time. Mattie deserved all the time in the world. I wanted to give it to her. I still do… But I want you too. And now I'm mad all over again. If I ever stopped being mad. I'm not sure I did. I guess I just ran, hid from anything that reminded me how mad I am. Mac, I want to have this baby with you… I want it more than I've ever wanted anything… But it just reminds me."

"Harm." She says gently. "I'm confused. What are you saying? Wanting to have a baby makes you angry?"

"Yeah, but no. It's not that simple."

"Okay, so explain it to me. I'm listening."

"We don't even have a baby yet. Nobody is pregnant. Still, I'd do anything for this baby. I don't get it Mac. She was his; his biologically, his blood, his child, his daughter, his little girl. He just left her there, in that hospital. She needed him and he was… He was somewhere getting drunk. Afterward, after she was… gone." Harm's voice catches "I looked for him. I couldn't find him… not anywhere. Probably a good thing. If I had found him…" he drops his voice to something less than a whisper. "I'd have hurt him… really bad Mac." He confesses with fear in his words.

Mac doesn't care. It doesn't bother her at all. She holds on to him as tightly as she can even when he pulls back; confusion clearly visible on his face. He looks at her as if he's waiting for something.

"What, you think that's supposed to scare me?"

"Well, it scares me. Mac, I don't think I've ever actually wanted to hurt anybody before?"

"Harm, you're not really expecting me to stand here and tell you that I don't know what it's like to want to beat the hell out of a drunken father; to just beat him to a bloody pulp? Hello… "She's surprised to suddenly find herself laughing. "What? You didn't really think you couldn't say that to me? Did you?"

"It's not right Mac. He's sick."

"Yes Harm, Tom Johnson is sick… And he chose to stay that way. Being an alcoholic doesn't excuse anyone from acting like a decent human being. I use to go to an AA meeting in Yuma several years ago. There was a guy there who told me repeatedly over the course of several months time, 'You're not a bad person Sarah, you're a sick person.' Back then it made me feel good. Now it just pisses me off. Now, instead of sounding like an explanation; it sounds like an excuse. Being an alcoholic doesn't excuse him for being a lousy father. It's okay to be mad at him. It's even okay to want to beat him to a bloody pulp… Just so long as you don't actually do it. But, restraining yourself, that's not for him. That's for you."

She pauses for a moment collecting her thoughts and decides to share something important that she's never told him before. "When Joe was in the hospice, the priest there, Father Genaro, had to pull me off of him. The man was in a coma Harm, and a priest had to literally pull me off of him. So please understand, the important thing is not that you feel this way; it's what you do with it that matters. I think you already know that. I think you know that beating Tom Johnson senseless wouldn't have made you feel better, and anyway, that's not what you owe Mattie. Pounding on a sick old man in a coma; screaming at him, didn't make me feel any better. His wallet did."

"His wallet?"

"Yeah, his wallet. I've still got it. It's inside that chest; the one that Uncle Matt built. One of the compartments inside that wallet has a handful of newspaper clippings in it. They are all about me; my service, my career. It doesn't make up for all the bad that he did; not even close. But it does help. It helps to know that he thought about me after I left him. I don't know, maybe even missed me a little. I don't know if Tom Johnson has a wallet or anything else like that, but I do know he'll have to live with decisions he made for the rest of his life. When he is old and sick, Mattie won't be here for him to reach out to. He has to live with that knowledge too. It doesn't make up for her being gone, I know. Nothing ever will, but whatever it is you think you'd like to do to him, it's not half as bad as what he's done to himself. None of it will bring her back. But that doesn't mean you have to let her go. It doesn't mean you can't keep her with you."

She places her hand gently over his heart. "Moving forward with me, with Laura, and whoever comes next, doesn't mean you miss her any less. It doesn't make you any less of a dad. Mattie's father wasn't that dad that you didn't have to be. You chose to do it anyway. Don't ever forget Harm, she had you… And she still does… And I love you for it."

Harm clings to his wife, dreadfully afraid to say what he desperately wants to say; knowing it might break him. "Mac, I miss her so much."

Mac quietly reaches out with one hand and closes the bathroom door before she tightens their embrace and doesn't let go.


	12. The Short End of The Stick

**Chapter 12: The Short End Of The Stick**

**Author's Note: **Curiouser & curiouser. If anybody feels confused while reading this chapter, you're not alone. Remember, he's a spook! I promise, I will enlighten you as soon as I find some illumination myself!

* * *

Tuesday, October 28, 2007

Mac tries to disentangle herself from her sleeping husband's embrace without disturbing him. It doesn't work. He tightens his hold. She tries again; this time giving up the effort not to disturb him. She playfully pokes his shoulder with two fingers. He murmurs; only half conscious.

"Harm, let me go. I have to get up now. If I don't, I'll be late for work and Laura will be late for school."

"Ten more minutes." He disagrees with a yawn but does not open his eyes.

"You can stay in bed as long as you like, but I have to get up now."

He opens one eye and flashes a sleepy version of his customary grin. "You… stay… Here with me; ten more minutes."

She smiles languidly but slowly shakes her head. "Not to say that isn't a highly tempting offer Flyboy, but I'm already going to have to rush as it is. It's almost 0600. I haven't showered. Laura's not up and I want to be at the office by 0730 at the absolute latest."

"Stay." He persists. "Ten more minutes. Then, you can shower and I'll get Laura up. I may as well get up anyway. Tomorrow I have to."

"Meh." She thinks it over. "Okay… But only ten more minutes." She settles back in. "Anybody ever tell you you're a bad influence? She kisses his bare shoulder. "Are you excited about tomorrow?" She can feel the slight flexing of his jaw against the top of her head when he grins in anticipation of taking up his new post.

"Yeah, I'll admit it. I am."

Mac murmurs quietly. "Look out Special Warfare Command. Here he comes!"

It's his turn to poke her as the hazy light of early morning streams through their favorite window; overlooking the water. "I can't tell if you're being supportive, are predicting doom."

"A little of both." She says with equal parts pluck and sass. "Trouble does have a way of finding you Harm. Fortunately for the people around you, you seem to be exceptionally good at getting yourself out of it."

"Years of practice." He admits with ease as memories of some of his adventures flash through his mind like worn out images on an ancient reel of eight MM film in dusty condition. Although many of those memories were made with the woman at his side, not all of them were.

He breathes deeply and she senses the slight shift in his mood. Remembering the heartache and the nearly torrential flow of tears from a few hours before, she gently runs her fingers through his chest hair and snuggles a little closer. "You okay Flyboy?" she asks softly.

"Yeah, I am. I was just thinking about Keeter."

Surprised, she chuckles with the slightest bit of self deprecation. "I guess it's good that you can still surprise me, but boy did I call that one wrong."

All too aware of her thoughts, he squeezes her shoulder and kisses the top of her head. "Mattie's taking a breather. I don't hear her voice at just this moment."

"Often?"

"Daily. Usually multiple times a day. She's been fussing at me for the better part of two years to come here and…" he forms quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Fix things."

Mac chuckles softly. "No wonder she's taking a breather. Harm, she's exhausted! You are kind of thick headed; you know?

Undisturbed by the mild insult, he shrugs. "You're a fine one to talk Jarhead!"

She gently pokes him for the second time and says with a smile. "I didn't say you weren't in good company."

Harm opts to pretend he didn't hear her. "Laura said she saw of them yesterday at the gallery; Keeter and Skates I mean. You don't suppose they're here together?"

Mac shrugs. "Obviously they are spending time together, but I doubt they arrived here together. Keeter got PCS'd."

Harm lifts his head off the pillow and raises an inquiring eyebrow. "And exactly how would you know that? Laura didn't say anything about a change of station for him. She only said that he's here."

Mac makes a show of widening her eyes mischievously. "Oh… I have my ways."

Harm eases her onto her back and rolls with her until he is propped on his elbows squinting down at her beneath him. "What aren't you telling me Marine?"

Mac smiles up at him sweetly. "When he showed up for the wedding, he happened to mention that he was stuck in Germany, through no fault of his own. It took me awhile to put two and two together and come up with four, because he couldn't give me very many details, but I got there eventually. I felt bad. So… I cashed in a big favor." She shrugs as if it's no big deal.

Wholly unconvinced by her easygoing manner, Harm asks; "Why should you feel bad if Keeter got himself stuck in Germany?"

"Harm, you aren't listening. I told you, it wasn't his fault."

"Okay, so who's fault was it?"

Mac holds her right hand up for him to see with ¼ inch gap between her thumb and forefinger. "Maybe it was just a tiny bit my fault… but mostly it was Webb's."

Harm tilts his head to one side and squints doubtfully, and with no small amount of curiosity. "Explain please."

"You won't like it." Mac warns lightly.

He considers this for less than ½ a second and nods. "Tell me anyway."

"January 2006. Clayton Webb showed up at my office unexpectedly one day. I refused to see him. I should've known he wouldn't take 'no' that easily. I just didn't think about it. So naturally, that evening he was knocking on my front door. He said he needed help with an assignment. I stopped him before he could explain any further. I declared myself not to be in the 'need to know' category, and told him I didn't care what he needed or why he needed it. I didn't want to know. I told him to look elsewhere. Turns out he did and somehow the next person he found was apparently Keeter. I don't know many of the details. But I know Keeter wound up on the wrong side of a job that unsurprisingly didn't go well. Keeter told me that much himself. Harm, I know we all make jokes at his expense about his colorful personal life. That being said, he's good. I'd have no problem working with Keeter again. It only it took me a few seconds after he told me about a mysterious job with the State Department to think of Clay and to start wondering if maybe he somehow got a raw deal. He wouldn't say so himself; I asked him and he just shrugged it off. So, I made a few phone calls last month. It had been nagging at me since the wedding. I called Langley. Had to call a few times. After the third and fourth call, I got the sense that Clay was ducking and my calls. I told April, Laurie June's replacement, to tell him that if he didn't call me back within 24 hours I would get on a plane, and camp out in his office for as long as it took. Six hours later Webb was standing in front of my desk at the JLSO demanding to know what the problem was. I have to say, it kind of impressed me. Clay's usual motifs operandi is to avoid me when I'm less than thrilled with him… Dealing with me head on really isn't his style, or at least it didn't use to be. We had a rather ominous verbal sparring match… Until I got what I wanted. He finally admitted things didn't go well with the assignment, and he conveniently let most of it fall on Keeter. I promised to make good on an old threat… To hang his ass over a very deep chasm. Then, I made a few new threats. Next thing you know… Keeter's stateside. I hope things are better for him now. I'm sure he'll call to let us know he's here. Maybe he could help you uncrate Sarah. She's at Magellan now; right?" Mac gives him a look of mild uncertainty; hoping he'll take the suggestion lightly.

Harm can't help but grin. "Yes, Sarah arrived at Magellan two days ago. I'm going to go visit her this coming weekend, and nice try Marine! That was a fairly smooth change of subject. Thought you'd slip right passed my questions; didn't you? You not only called but apparently saw Clay last month and conveniently forgot to mention it. Were you going to mention it before you departed for Virginia?"

"Mention it?" She feigns insult. "Hey, I was gonna take you with me… If I had to go! You were back from London by then. I would've filled you in on all of it, at least as much as I know if we needed to go. We'd go down there and rattle his cage just like we used to! It might've been fun." She announces with a wicked smile.

"Fun huh?" he asks skeptically. "Then how come you didn't tell me about it until now?"

She shrugs and explains simply. "Didn't have to go. And anyway, by the time I got home that day; the last person I wanted to talk about was Clayton Webb. As memory serves, you were in a particularly pleasing mood." She flashes a seductive smile. "I didn't wanna distract you. Mention of Clay would have spoiled the mood. I didn't think about him again for a couple of days. And by then, it was over and done. He'd gone back to… wherever he came from. You know Clay. The only thing he does better or faster than show up at inconvenient moments; is disappear."

Harm watches a slight frown materialize and then vanish from her face. "You could have told me sooner Mac. You probably should have. And I'm not at all sure why you think you might bear any responsibility for whatever happened to Keeter."

"See if you can get Keeter to tell you about it whenever you two see each other; I'm sure it will be soon enough. I felt bad. Clay tried to ask me to go… do whatever it was Keeter did. I wouldn't even give him the chance to explain. The next guy down the list just happened to be one of your best friends. It wasn't technically my fault… But… Let's just say I feel better now. As for Clay, I'm fairly certain he won't be popping by anymore. But if I'm wrong, I'll tell you about it… If you really want me to."

"Please do. What makes you think he won't be coming around again the next time he needs a professional favor?"

"He knows I'm not going to work with him. He also knows I've gotten married. Last month I caught him staring at my rings. He didn't ask. I didn't feel it was necessary to supply him with answers to questions he wasn't going to lend voice to. We are none of his business anyway. I used to tell him that even when he did have the right to ask. Prior to last month, the last time I saw him was almost seven months ago. I can tell he's still extremely uncomfortable with what transpired then. His discomfort keeps him at arm's length. I'd prefer things to stay that way between us; lest he get the wrong idea."

"What happened seven months ago?" Harm questions boldly and with mild concern.

"He needed a place to dry out again; get back up on the wagon. I did help him with that, but that's all it was Harm. He spent a week here, and then I drove him to some swanky rehab his mother booked him into."

"He was here with you?" Harm looks around the room uncomfortably.

Mac rubs his back affectionately. "Harm, he was never in this room… I promise. Please, don't even go there. I couldn't have been less interested in that. And no one, absolutely no one, is sexy when their drying out!"

"Okay… But were you safe with him here in that condition. My understanding is that detox is one door away from Hell. Not just for the person going through it, but also for the person or people helping them through it."

"Harm first, realize that our bedroom door is the only interior door in this house with a lock on it. Clay, here and drying out, is the reason that lock was installed. Second, forget the one door away theory. Detox is hell; the seventh ring of it. Clay's life, his work, didn't make it any better for him. It was ugly; for him and for me… I've never seen a week quite like that one; not even when I was drying out. I don't want to see another one like it either. I can't say I'll ever do it again, but I don't regret doing it. I'm actually glad I did, but if he falls again. He has to look elsewhere. He knows that too. After he left here, for rehab, I didn't see him again until last month. I did get a postcard about four months ago though. There were only three words on it. 'I owe you.' He didn't even sign it, but I'd recognize his handwriting anywhere. I decided to cash in… For Keeter. I still don't know what the hell happened in Germany. But, at least Keeter's home. That's good enough for me."

Harm nods thoughtfully. After a quiet moment, he asks "So, how did Webb seem last month?"

"Sober… And better. Don't get me wrong, he still a smug bastard… And not half as smooth as he thinks he is; but he's better."

Harm is a bit surprised when she actually giggles before concluding. "Reminds me of that old saying, You can sober up a horse thief….."

Harm guesses, "But he's still a horse thief?"

Mac's pretty mouth stretches into a wide grin. "That's it!" she declares and gives him a brusque kiss. "Now get off me Squid! I've got to get ready for work, and you've got to wake Laura."


	13. Author's Note I'm Back!

Author's Note:

Dear friends and readers a couple of months ago my family suffered an unexpected loss that sent us reeling. I should have gotten in touch sooner, but simply was not up to it. For awhile I just stopped ... everything. However, the sun also rises.

Although my initial shock wore off a couple of weeks ago I found myself subsequently suffering with a bad bout of writer's block. It's taken me some time to get back into the swing of things, but I think I'm ready. Give me a short time to read through the last few chapters of Mac and Harm's story (and sort through all your e-mail to me) Thanks for staying in touch even when I didn't. I promise I'll have something new for you by the end of the weekend. Looking forward to writing again and to sharing it with all of you.


	14. Busy Man

**Chapter 14: Busy Man **

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for your sympathies and heartfelt condolences.

* * *

Tuesday, October 28, 2007

On his way through the living room, moving from their room to Laura's, Harm works his arms into a T shirt and then slips it over his head while Mac busies herself in their bedroom closet; select in her attire for the day. He opens Laura's bedroom door and is mildly alarmed to find her bed empty at this early morning hour until he hears the muffled sound of water running in the bathroom sink. He takes two steps back and turns to his left before he realizes that he missed seeing Laura's walker positioned just outside the bathroom door. He yawns, realizing that he missed it because he's not fully awake yet. He shakes his head in response to his own error and wraps gently on the door.

Laura's "Come in." is both muffled by the closed door and somewhat slurred. He complies and smiles when he realizes why. Balanced carefully atop a small step stool and leaning against the vanity for support, she is clad in vivid orange and purple striped pajamas. She's only partially awake herself, but there's already a toothbrush in her mouth.

Harm flashes his sleepy smile and teases her. "You know, most kids your age have to be nagged and reminded to brush their teeth."

Laura squints and shrugs but finishes the task at hand before she spits toothpaste in the sink and answers, "That's just gross! My mouth tastes yucky in the morning even though I brush before bed." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I don't like that! Hey, where's Aunt Mac?"

As Harm answers, he steps into the room and around her on his way to the shower. He reaches in and turns on the hot water in anticipation of Mac's arrival. "She's picking out her clothes for the day. We were a bit late getting up. I told her I would help you get ready for school while she got ready for work, that way no one will be late."

Laura wipes her mouth dry on the sleeve of her pajamas before informing him. "I can dress myself. You can go make me some breakfast!"

As he leaves the room again Harm notices that she carefully steps down off the step stool and makes her way out of the room; one hand always kept on the vanity for support until she reaches the door jamb where she steadies herself while she reaches for her walker out in the hallway. "Why don't you bring it in here with you? Wouldn't that be safer?"

She nods her head; her hair still unruly from sleep, "The walker won't fit through the door." She pulls the walker to her to demonstrate. "See."

Harm can't help but wonder why he hasn't noticed this before now. As she pulls the walker to her he realizes that the hand grips will pass through the door on the left side but her walker bumps against the open door on the right where it's hinged and she can't pass through. The small walker is literally ¼ inch too wide to fit through the narrow doorway. "Well that's just ridiculous!" he says more to himself than to her. "Why didn't I know this? Why didn't you say something Sweetheart?"

Laura shrugs as she moves toward her bedroom. "It's not usually a big deal. I don't have my brace on yet. That just makes walking harder. That's probably why you noticed. There's lots of places to hold on to in there so it doesn't really matter. I can balance. Mom's trailer's got even skinnier doors, so, I'm use to holding on to stuff if my walker won't fit. "

Harm runs his hands along the narrow expanse of wall beside the right portion of the door jamb. "Yeah, but I can fix this; easy. I don't even have to make the doorway wider. There's a different kind of hinge that will allow the door itself to open flat against the wall so the door wouldn't be in your way. It won't make the doorway much wider, but it will give you the little bit of space you need to get your walker through."

Laura squints; confused.

Harm explains as best he can. "If I put a different type of hinge on this door… " He points to the hinge that is already there and demonstrates that the door will only open so far. "It will allow the door to open differently so that it will swing all the way open and stop against the wall it's hinged to. If it folds back against the wall…" Harm pauses to double check, making sure that the expanse of wall is wide enough to accommodate the width of the narrow door, "then the door itself wouldn't take up space inside the doorway and your walker would fit through." He smiles at her with enthusiasm.

Decidedly less impressed than he is, Laura shrugs. "Okay, if you want to. I don't care. Really Uncle Harm, I'm use to it this way. It doesn't matter. You're already making another bathroom. Aunt Mac said you're not gonna change this one. It's gonna be mine. You shouldn't spend the money. Mom says kids cost too much. I gotta get dressed now."

Harm sinks to one knee in front of her and gently halts her progress. "First, those hinges probably won't cost more than $10.00, tops. Seond, I want you to forget all about what Mom says. You don't cost too much. And little kids aren't supposed to worry about money anyway. That's not your job."

Laura looks at him curiously and asks with a bit of a challenge in her young voice, "Then what jobs do I have?"

"Let's see." Harm makes a show of thinking about it and after a few seconds he answers, "Right now you only have three jobs. Do your best in school. Keep your room clean. And have as much fun as you possibly can… without getting into trouble." He tries without much success to smooth her messy hair as he stands. "Those are the only things a kid your age needs to worry about. Let the grownups worry about the rest; got it?"

Laura looks as if she's not quite sure what to do with this information but after a weighted pause she announces, "Okay, if you say so." She returns to her room; moving slowly without her brace. Before she closes her bedroom door she turns and smiles up at him as she asks" Are you gonna make me some breakfast, or what?"

Harm shakes his head in amusement as Mac joins him in the hallway on her way to the bathroom. "I'm going, I'm going!" he breathes

* * *

Several hours later Harm is assisting two men in coveralls as they move Mac's brand new bathtub from the back of their van to the house. The three of them are moving slowly and carefully up the front walk with their heavy load when a rental car Harm does not recognize pulls to a stop at the curb. He grins in welcome when Jack Keeter exits the vehicle. Leaving the driver's side door open, he sprints to their aid and tucks one shoulder under the rim of the overturned bathtub; lightening the load for the others. "Good God!" He groans in surprise at the old fashioned claw footed tub's weight. "Who knew these things were heavy enough to withstand a bomb blast! What's wrong with the old one?" Keeter cranes his neck awkwardly in an attempt to make eye contact around the end of the tub.

The question confuses Harm and the expression on his face makes that evident.

"You're getting a new tub. I assume there was a problem with its predecessor."

Harm shakes his head; mindful of the front porch step. "No predecessor. New bathroom. Needs a bathtub."

"And you had to pick the heaviest one available?" Keeter grouses.

"It's the one Mac liked best."

"And she couldn't get some of her jarhead buddies to come haul this thing into the house?"

"Didn't ask. She thinks it's coming next week. I want to have it installed before she gets home. This tub is the last thing to go in. Wanted to get it done before starting work tomorrow."

The men can't pass through the open doorway together; not with the overturned tub between them, so Keeter and one of the movers duck under the sides of the tub and support its weight from the inside while Harm in the other man stand at either end. They carry the tub slowly through the house into the new bathroom and upright the thing; setting it gently on the floor in the place where it's meant to stay.

Keeter busies himself with removing the bathtub's protective wrap and survailing his surroundings while Harm signs paperwork and shakes hands with the men who delivered the tub. Harm walks them back to the front door and when he returns Keeter spreads his arms wide, indicating the bathroom, "Not bad." He says in approval,

Harm nods, but otherwise ignores the comment. " What happened to Germany?"

"Apparently I was granted a pardon. Darnedest thing. Out of the blue." Keeter says; tongue in cheek.

Harm nods again. "But what happened in Germany?" He asks stressing the difference between the two questions.

"I could tell you I got roped into helping the State Department…" As he says the words of 'State Department' Keeter forms quote marks in the air with his fingers. "bust up of multi-million dollar weapons smuggling operation, but that would be like comparing an RPG to a water gun. The whole thing went sideways and my… Oh let's call him a tour guide… That's about all be is good for… The oily a son of the bitch walked away clean. Me, not so much. But, mysteriously, the black mark in my service record seems to have pulled a better disappearing act than David Copperfield at his finest. I don't know what that wife of yours threatened him with but I'm fairly certain she's responsible."

"I don't think it was so much what she did threaten him with, as it was what she could have threaten him with; and he knows it. He owes her. She cashed in… And as far as I'm concerned, he still owes her."

"But for me? Why? She barely likes me."

"She likes you better than she lets on." Harm sets to work hooking the bathtub up to the water line; already in place."And she did it as much for me as for you."

Keeter points a finger in Harm's direction. Now that last part I actually believe… But I don't care why she did it. Not really. It's nice to be stateside again; better than nice. I guess I owe her now."

"That's not why she did it man." Harm declares over his shoulder from his place on the floor as he strains to reach into the confined space between the tub and the wall to complete the hook up.

"Doesn't matter."

Harm changes the subject. "Laura says you're spending time with Skates."

Keeter shrugs. "Nice girl… Woman." He corrects himself on afterthought and the change in phrase doesn't go unnoticed by Harm.

Harm nods in response. "Be nice to her."

Keeter feigns innocence. "I'm always nice."

Harm chooses his words with a bit more precision. "Be good to her."

Keeter eyes him speculatively. "She an old flame?"

Harm pauses in his work to grin at his old friend and shakes his head. "She's family."

"She asked me to go with her to this art gallery shindig your mom is throwing."

"You should. We'll be there."

"Not really my thing Brother."

Understanding completely, Harm chuckles quietly. "Not really my neither. But it's Chloe's opening. Mac's all excited. It'll make her happy. Hand me that wrench." Harm indicates the tool lying several feet away in a corner of the bathroom next to his toolbox. When he has it in hand he returns to his work and continues over his shoulder. " I'm going to Magellan this weekend to uncrate Sarah and put her back together. She's probably gonna need a little work. Been two years since I took her up. Could use a hand getting her ready if you wanna come."

Stunned by the admission, Keeter says quietly, "I'm there."

.


	15. Droppimg in Unannounced

**Chapter 15:** Dropping in Unannounced

**Author's Note: **I really must thank you all one more time for your sympathies and heartfelt condolences; such compassion. You guys are awesome!

**Error alert**; It has just come to my attention that somewhere along the way I goofed when selecting the dates for these chapters. Most of you probably wouldn't notice this, especially not seven years after the fact, but I promise you there will be one reader who does notice and sadly doesn't read author's notes. October 28 of 2007 was actually a Sunday. The error first occurred in chapter three and based on what has been written so far, it's too late to go back and change it now. It would require a very complicated rewrite, so, please, just consider me human with all the wonderful faults that apply, and try to refrain from sending me messages that tell me so.

Steamboat: So happy to see messages from you again. I haven't heard from you since the close of Crossing the Ocean, and I was afraid I'd lost you. Glad you're still with us.

Sue: in this house, Candy's 'dog cookies' are referred to as 'good girl biscuits'. Dare to speak those three little words, and she'll spin in place like the Tasmanian devil for utter joy. It's really quite a sight! And now that I've said those three little words out loud I must pause here briefly and go get one, because she heard me, and if she doesn't get one it will break her little doggie heart.

* * *

Wednesday, October 29, 2007

Special Warfare Command 1230 Hours

Yeoman Christopher Peltier looks up from his work when he hears the chime from the bank of elevators signaling someone's arrival. When the doors slide open, the woman who steps out, carrying a takeout bag from a local deli, catches him by surprise. He decides instantly that the class A Marine Colonel's uniform has never looked so good on a woman and then he mutely reminds himself to keep his thoughts to himself.

Scarcely pausing to look around, as if she's been here 1000 times before, she makes her way to him with an obligatory smile that he could swear holds just the faintest whisper of mirth while he comes to attention behind his desk. "Good afternoon Colonel. What brings you to SPECWAR?"

"I'd like to see the captain." She states crisply with a nearly imperceptible hint of enthusiasm, as if there ought to be an air of familiarity between the two of them, as if this were not the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. Her smile shifts to something more genuine and Peltier is eerily aware that he's missing something; some vital piece of information. He could almost swear that she's enjoying herself immensely underneath all of her stiff Marine bearing, but he'll be damned if he knows why.

"Is the captain expecting you Ma'am?" He glances down at his desk calendar. "It's his first day. I don't have a meeting scheduled just now." Her smile finally reaches her wide dark eyes and he realizes that, although her command presence remains intact, for some reason this woman is silently laughing at him.

"No, he's not expecting me. Just tell him Colonel Mackenzie is here to see him."

Peltier nods once. "Wait right here Ma'am."

She gives him an identical perfunctory head nod and shifts to an at ease posture as he moves to, and wraps lightly against the door to his superior's inner office. When his knock is acknowledged the yeoman pokes his head into the office and speaks so quietly that his words do not reach her ears, but she recognizes the distinct sound of Harm's quiet chuckle.

Three seconds don't fully elapse before Harm is at the door and sidestepping his yeomen. While flashing her his best smile, he gently claps a hand on the young man's shoulder and declares in a loud stage whisper " For future reference Peltier, Colonel Mackenzie is also Mrs. Rabb."

The senior officers endeavor not to smile as they watch the young man trying not to look awkward as he says quietly, "She didn't tell me that Sir. You should've just said so Ma'am. Why didn't she say so Captain?"

Harm's eyes sparkle. "Because she's evil that way yeoman."

The comment further confuses the young man and he passes a look between the two of them; his head swiveling as if he's watching a tennis match. "Evil, Sir?"

Mac stifles a giggle; refusing to allow it to fully escape her throat. "I was just having a bit of fun with you." She admits.

"Begging your pardon Ma'am, but I wasn't aware that Marines had a sense of humor."

Mac smiles easily and shimmies her hand side to side in the air; indicating indecision. "Whether or not Marines have a sense of humor is debatable. Wives on the other hand…" Without finishing the thought, she steps nearer to Harm and holds up the takeout bag; putting it on display. "Lunch?"

"Sounds great! What'd you bring me?" He queries while ushering her inside his office.


	16. A Good Day

**Chapter 16: **A Good Day

* * *

Wednesday, October 29, 2007

Special Warfare Command 1236 Hours

Mac sashays passed Harm at the door to his office; smiling sweetly as they brush lightly against one another. Inside, she walks a half circle in a wide arc around the modestly sized room's perimeter, and ends her informal inspection by helping herself to the chair behind his desk.

Watching her; he can't help but smile. She's in a good mood. She cocks her head to one side and stretches her eyes wide. "Not bad Squid. You're moving up in the world!"

He shrugs easily; her mood is becoming contagious. "It's not as if its mahogany paneled Mac. Place could stand to be redecorated. What color is that anyway?" He asks indicating the paint on three of the four walls.

She shrugs happily and considers her answer. "Banana cream? You'll make it your own. It has potential… And I think the paneling on the back wall here is supposed to resemble oak. I think you have to move up another two pay grades before they give you one of those stuffy old mahogany paneled domains.

Harm moves close and, leaning on the back of his chair, he lightly kisses her upturned mouth before informing her quietly, "Banana cream is a pie filling, not a color."

She pats his shoulder as she stands, then takes his hand and leads him around to the other side of the desk where she settles in one of his visitors chairs and leaves the other for him.

When he is seated, she hands him the takeout box with his lunch in it and they spend a few quiet minutes settling in, with containers balanced on their knees, and locating plasticware, napkins, small plastic containers of salad dressing, and little packets of salt and pepper from the bottom of the sack. Harm finds himself with a small green salad and a bowl of vegetables soup. It surprises him to find that her lunch is similar. "You're eating salad? Are you sick?"

She rolls her eyes. "Hey, I eat salad… As long as I can put enough fattening stuff in it to make it taste good." She adds as an afterthought while she empties an extra container of salad dressing over hers.

He nods. "Your soup smells better than mine. What is it?"

Enchilada."

"Cheese enchilada?"

She shakes her head theatrically and teases, "It's chicken enchilada… Wanna bite?"

He grimaces as if she's just offered him road kill. "No thank you." He says drolly.

While spearing salad with a fork, she shrugs affably. "Suit yourself Flyboy. How's your first day going?"

"Okay." he says, pausing for a bite. "Normal first day stuff I guess; introductions, paperwork… You know how it goes."

"Your staff?"

"So far they all seem capable. It's too early to tell. Everybody's walking around on their best behavior. Curious about, and a little uncertain of, the new guy."

Mac takes the lid off a bottle of water, and hands Harm the one still left in the sack before she answers with certainty. "Most of them will like you."

Harm sets his water bottle down on the nearby corner of his desk. "Only most?"

"Harm, no one is beloved by all. You'll have one or two who will tolerate you, thanks to good order and discipline, and at least one of them will leave work, go home and secretly fantasize about your demise, but if they respect you, you will never know which one"

He studies her for a moment. "How is petty Officer Brandon?"

Mac doesn't quite chuckle before answering, fork held at the ready, "Out of the office today. It's peaceful. No outbursts, no tantrums, and no ridiculous mishaps. And the investigation into her conduct is not going to go in her favor."

"Ahh; that explains your lighthearted mood."

"It's not just that. It's October. The weather is mild. My husband has a new job. My new bathtub is glorious. Chloe will be here the day after tomorrow. Laura's dentist called my office this morning for a follow-up to her last appointment. He said that she can stop wearing her bite plate at night Harm. That's really great news! So, life is pretty close to perfect… Oh," Mac pauses on a less enthusiastic note "Mom called. Her car broke down again this morning. She was planning to go to the library, but when she went out, it wouldn't start. She still won't let us ask Frank for a deal." Mac shrugs. "But… I guess that's her choice."

Harm nods and they are quiet for several minutes, both of them busy with their meals until a thought occurs to him. "Bite plate? I thought it was a retainer."

"A retainer?" Mac queries in surprise.

"I saw her put it in her mouth one night before bed. I thought it was a retainer. It looks like one… I guess."

Mildly astonished at the error, Mac shakes her head. "Harm, Laura is too young for a retainer. She hasn't lost all of her baby teeth yet. Retainers are meant to help realign permanent teeth. There's no point using one on teeth that are just going to fall out within the next few years."

"Okay." He shrugs. "That makes sense. So, what is this bite plate for?"

"She grinds her teeth in her sleep, well, she used to. It's bad for the enamel. I had her fitted for the plate early last year, after she complained to me more than once that her mouth hurt early in the morning when she first woke up."

"Her mouth hurt?"

Mac nods. "I didn't understand it at first. I looked for a cavity. When I found one, I took her to the dentist. Turns out, the cavity wasn't bothering her, yet. What she was trying to say was, her jaw hurt. Apparently, that happens when you unconsciously spend all night clinching and grinding your teeth."

Harm squints at the news, letting it sink in, then he says more loudly than he meant to. "She's not even seven yet! People do that in extreme frustration, or under acute stress! To do it involuntarily in your sleep…" he inhales raggedly. "And the early part of last year, she was only five years old!"

For a long silent moment ominous anger darkens his blue eyes and sets his jaw firmly and then, for just a flicker in time, Mac thinks he might actually hit something. She takes his hand patiently in hers, and waits quietly for the moment to pass. When he attempts a brittle smile she nods. "I know. Last year, when the dentist explained it to me, I wanted to put my sister through a wall… But, the dentist called today to say that she can stop wearing it. He thinks she's stopped now. He said to try putting her to bed without it for a few nights and see if she wakes up complaining of pain. If not, she's done. Knowing that feels wonderful Harm. It means we're doing something right. And Charlie called yesterday too. Laura's getting some of her strength back in her leg. When he thinks she's strong enough, I'm going to put her back in swim classes. She loves the water and swimming is a low resistance exercise. It would help her, I think. Help her regain strength without wearing her out. Charlie says she's not ready yet, but she's getting there… And Harm she's so excited about Halloween at the art gallery."

"Now that I knew! It's practically all she talks about this week! Her enthusiasm is contagious. I haven't looked forward to Halloween this much since I was ten."

"I'm not exactly sure what your mother has planned, but I do know that tomorrow she's spending the afternoon with Laura and they are apparently going to get ready for Halloween… Whatever that means. But, right now, I have got to get back to my own office Sailor. I do like yours though. It's a far cry from the janitor's closet the admiral stuck you in when you returned to JAG following your walk on the dark side."

"Hey!" Harm objects playfully. "Mine was a brief excursion. I'm not the one who dated a guy who lives there year round!"

"I didn't live there with him! When he was home, he'd just bring his little spooky self over to my place and visit, that's all."

Harm nods. "Yeah, and it was the visiting part that bothered me. I didn't mind it so much when he was out of town."

She stands and runs her fingers through his hair. "Well, you don't have to worry about that ever again." She returns to the opposite side of his desk once more and tosses her empty food container in a wastepaper basket. While there, she catches sight of a collection of photographs in the upper right corner of his desk. Three framed tokens of affection; Laura smiling brightly up at the man behind the camera from her perch on a bar stool in Trish and Frank's kitchen, Mattie on a porch swing; maybe at her house and Blacksburg. She looks as if she's just said something witty and unexpected to whoever took the photo. The third, and largest of the photos, is a familiar 8x10 of Harm and Mac together in Afghanistan; arm in arm, smiling for the camera. Pleased; she offers him a warm smile and reaches across the desk for his container. It follows hers as she comments, "You've already got your pictures out."

He flashes his best flyboy grin. "First thing I did when I got here. Gotta have pictures of my girls."

Mac smirks playfully, "Your girls huh?" and then something in her mood shifts slightly and she becomes solemn for a moment as he nods in reply.

He guesses at the path that her thoughts have taken. "Harriet's supposed to be at the opening right? We're still going to ask her; aren't we?

Mac nods. "Don't be disappointed if she says no, or that she needs time to think about it. It's a big deal Harm."

"Hey, you really think I don't know that?"

"You do, but not on the same level she does. She told me about each one of her pregnancies in detail; how each one was uniquely magical and miserable, all at the same time. We'll be asking her to do it all again, only, when it's over, she won't get to keep the baby; that's if it even works."

He takes her outstretched hand and guides her around the corner of the desk and then further on to his office door where he pulls her close for a moment. "It'll all work out Mac. No matter what Harriet says. Before you know it, there'll be four pictures on the corner of my desk; maybe another little girl, maybe a boy. I'm good either way… Though… It would be nice not to be so wildly outnumbered by the women in my life. But no matter what, Laura's going to make a great cousin/big sister." He chuckles. "I can just see it! Hopefully, we can convince her to wait until the kid has teeth before she tries to teach him or her how eat pizza with everything on it; including jalapenos!"


	17. It's More Contagious than the Flu

**Chapter 17 **It's More Contagious Than The Flu

Thursday, October 30, 2007

* * *

Mac gets out of her Jeep laughing. A new Halloween decoration has made its way to her front yard. A disheveled looking witch has, most unfortunately, crashed headlong into a tree in her front yard. Somewhat flattened by the impact, the hag, who looks remarkably like Kathy Najimy in the movie Hocus Pocus, precariously dangles mid air; a one handed grip on the end of her broom which has 'impaled' Mac's favorite tree.

Before she even makes it to the top porch step, Mac hears quiet laughter and relaxed conversation coming from inside her house via the open living room window. She also detects the hearty aroma of chili simmering on the stove along with the fragrance of something warm and sweet that triggers the thought of Christmas but even before she manages to step inside she reassesses and changes her mind Christmas isn't quite right.

"I'm home." She announces, opening the front door without the need for her keys.

"Hello darling." Trish calls out merrily as Frank greets her with "Welcome home. You beat that stepson of mine. He's not home yet."

Leaving her purse and keys on top of the credenza to the left of the front door; she shrugs out of her uniform jacket and tosses it over the back of Harm's favorite chair before making her way into the kitchen where she joins them. "Doesn't surprise me Frank. It's his first day; he may be a while yet. There's never a shortage of things to do when you arrive at a new station." Mac looks around the room in wonder. Nearly every available inch of counter space, not that there's much of it, in her small kitchen is in use at the moment. "What is all this? And what do I smell? It's not pumpkin pie, but it's something close to it. And where is Laura?"

"Good nose." Frank chuckles. "It smells just like pumpkin pie to me, but it's homemade pumpkin flavored coffee creamer; pureed pumpkin and condensed milk along with a few spices. New recipe, Trish is experimenting."

"Laura's in the bathroom. I sent her to wash up and change her clothes before dinner. She was just a little bit sticky." Trish supplies and then continues, 'all this' is Halloween preparation. She points to the middle section of the breakfast bar. "You can't have Halloween without a haunted house."

Mac moves closer for a better inspection, leans over the tiny, somewhat atypical, model of a ramshackle house, and inhales deeply. "Is that gingerbread?"

Trish nods. "It is."

"Well, no wonder I thought I smelled Christmas all the way out on the front walk; pumpkin puree and gingerbread…"

"It's just a variation of the Christmas gingerbread house; same principle. The kit comes with Halloween instead of Christmas decorations. I bake, Frank constructs the actual house, because getting the icing to set just right, and getting the walls to stand just so while you do it can be difficult for small hands to manage, then Laura gets to decorate it… Anyway she chooses." Trish adds the last part as a playful challenge, looking pointedly at her husband.

"I thought I detected Laura's particular panache." Mac chuckles. "Whoever heard of a neon colored haunted house?"

"See." Frank grins merrily at his wife. It's not just me. Honey, haunted houses should at least look spooky. That thing looks like something a Care Bear, or maybe a Smurf, would live in."

"Oh hush Frank! She's a little girl… and if she wants a neon orange haunted house with a neon pink roof… Well, you just let her have it!"

Mac chimes in too; quickly putting a finger to her lips. "Shhh... Frank, I hate to tell you this, but Laura hates the smurfs! She'd be highly offended if she heard you say that."

Rather comically, Frank holds up his hands as if warding off an assault. "Okay…okay! I know when I'm beat!" As an afterthought he raises an eyebrow and asks, "What's wrong with the smurfs?"

"I think they insult her intelligence. Her friend Liam likes to watch the smurf movie. Every time one of the smurfs is trying to explain something that Hollywood movie types and TV producers have decided kids ought to know, Laura rolls her eyes and starts talking to the TV. 'Duh, I may be a kid but I'm not a dumb kid!"

He smiles proudly. "Sounds like something she'd say."

Mac moves on to the next project. "What's with all the pumpkins? She asks, counting the ones next to the sink as well as the one situated in front of Frank.

Trish eyes her as if she's asked an odd question. "Darling who ever heard of Halloween without a jack-o-lantern?"

Mac nods. "Yeah, 'A' jack-o-lantern; as in one. Trish, there are enough pumpkins here for five; and now they make the cute little ones that you can just plug in. It's a whole lot easier."

"You girls are just… Deprived… That's what you are." Trish declares with mild exasperation. I know I probably went a little overboard, but I was talking to Laura about it when I picked her up from school this afternoon. Do you know, she's never carved a pumpkin before today? I know she's too little to do it by herself, but that's just… Wrong! Somebody should have helped her do this by now. Harm had a blast making an ungodly mess with his first pumpkin. His poor grandmother was probably washing pumpkin guts off her kitchen walls for a week. She said it was best to do it outside." Trish smiles with the tender note of recollection in her voice, "but it was too cold that year. She was more worried about keeping him warm and healthy than whatever damage he would do indoors."

"How old was he?" Mac asks already picturing what an 'ungodly' mess might look like.

"He'd just turned three. I tried to tell Sarah that he was too young, that all he was going to do was make a mess. She waved me off, informing me, with complete certainty, how that was 3/4 of the fun."

As Trish talks, Mac crosses to the section of countertop beside the kitchen sink to examine the pumpkins that have already been carved.

Frank leaves his seat at the bar and moves near as she smiles at one with the traditional jack-o-lantern face.

"I thought the old standard might be easiest for her. I had to get the carving knife started for her, but she did a good bit of it herself. She helped me with the spider too; he points to the largest of the pumpkins and the fat tarantula carved there."

Mac can't decide whether to wrinkle her nose in disgust or stare in wonder. "You're good at this Frank. I'm not a fan of big hairy spiders, but they make nice pumpkin carvings. Mac giggles in delight when she sees the next carving. "Oh Frank; it's Snoopy! Laura loves Snoopy."

"Yes, we know!" Trish laughs. "I bought a stencil for that one. Frank did it for her and she sat very still and very quiet and watched every second of it; mesmerized by the process."

Mac spins the fourth pumpkin around wondering what image she will find there and is surprised instead by block lettering and the words, 'Go Navy.' She groans theatrically. Frank, I just want you to know, if Harm forms some sort of unnatural attachment to this pumpkin and refuses to throw it out next week, I'm going to blame you!"

He shrugs good naturedly. "Does that mean you don't want this one?" He asks, crooking his finger in a come hither fashion. "Trish and I usually have some kind of Navy related carving on our front walk, so I'm use to those, but this one is a new endeavor." He returns to his seat and carefully rotates the one unfinished pumpkin; putting it on display for her. He's taken more than a bit by surprise when she steps around the end of the bar and kisses his cheek. Even though his work is not yet complete, when it is, the script style carving will read 'Semper Fi.'

"That's the best Halloween pumpkin I've ever laid eyes on! Thank you!"

Frank pats her arm as she hugs him from behind and he smiles at his wife. "She's far too easy to please."

Mac laughs, "Maybe I am, but this is only the third time in my life that someone has carved a pumpkin for me. Uncle Matt did the first two. I think I was eight the first time."

"Eight!" Trish exclaims; shaking her head in dismay. "You missed out on a lot of fun."

Mac shrugs and changes the subject. "Doesn't sound as though Harm did. I don't suppose you got pictures of that first pumpkin carving?"

"Oh God; I wish! You should have seen the look on his face Mac! Sarah cut the top off and told him to help her clean the pumpkin out. The first time he stuck his hand inside he made the ugliest face; didn't care for the way it felt at all! He pulled his hand back out and she tried to coax him; sweet talk him into putting it back in there. I think it took about 15 minutes. We kept telling him it would be alright, but he would have none of it; just kept shaking his little head 'no.' We were just about ready to throw in the towel, so much for pumpkin carving, when Sarah had to go and answer the ringing doorbell, and I moved the carving knife to a safe place while I went to answer the ringing phone. I was only gone maybe 60 seconds, but while I was gone he decided to get over his revulsion. I came back to find him standing smack in the center of Sarah's kitchen table, covered head to toe in pumpkin guts and laughing like a loon. Well, I started with Harmon Rabb Jr.! But that was as far as I got. He looked at me, smiled and said, "Trick or treat Mama!" And oh how I tried not to laugh. I swear I did; bit my lower lip until I thought for sure it would bleed, but just as the urge was starting to subside, Sarah returned, took one look at her grandson standing there covered in goop and burst out laughing! I lost the battle! We stood there hugging each other and laughing until my son joined in and started jumping up and down on the kitchen table; scattering pumpkin innards everywhere!"

Mac doubles over as laugher bubbles out of her, and soon enough she has to lean against a bar stool for support when her knees start to shake.

Several seconds later they hear the toilet flush, signifying Laura's imminent return; and when the bathroom door opens too quickly Mac turns to say something to the girl but can't get the words out between fits of laughter.

Trish, still chuckling herself, steps in for her; calling out to Laura, "Wash your hands please."

"I already did; before I changed."

"Do it again please."

The adults wait; listening, straining to hear over Mac's laughter. There's a split second of silence in the bathroom before they all hear the sound of water running in the sink.

When the hand washing is done, Laura joins them with a bewildered expression. "Hi Aunt Mac… What's so funny?"

Mac laughs harder.

Frank scoops the girl up in his arms. "Trish is telling funny stories. She's tickled your aunt's funny bone, and now she can't seem to stop laughing."

As always, laughter is more contagious than the flu, and in very short order Laura's happy giggle is added to the mix even though she has no idea what Mac finds so funny.

Laura, Frank, and Mac do not hear Harm open the front door. They do not see him walk in, but he exchanges a curious smile with his mother and approaches cautiously, not truly certain he wants to disturb whatever fun they're having. As he nears Laura he leans in and whispers, "What's so funny Sweetheart?

Unable to answer, Laura shakes her head and shrugs helplessly.

Mac is on the verge of getting herself under control until she catches sight of Harm. She stops for a moment, gives him a look he can't define, glances at his mother, and then collapses onto a bar stool, rests her head on the countertop in front of her and starts up worse than before.

Helpless to understand, Harm simply stares at her for a long moment before placing a gentle hand on her back; both in greeting and in an effort to steady her. He squints at Trish and asks, "Mom, what have you done to my Marine?"


	18. Black Tie, Anyone?

**Chapter 18: **Black Tie, Anyone?

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**Author's Note:** Credit for the inspiration for the name of Trish's gallery goes to GibbsFan. I wouldn't have thought of it without you, but I think it's perfect.

Steamboat: What kind soul you are! I just read your review for Crossing the Ocean. Best Harm and Mac wedding ever written? Really? Now I have to go back, read it, and remind myself what was so fabulously wonderful about it. You have my gratitude! However, no one is leaping any tall buildings today; including Mac. Unfortunately, I was involved in a minor fender bender this morning. I'm just fine, but a little stiff. Don't imagine I'll feel like a leaping over anything for a few days… Or be inspired enough to have Mac do it for that matter.

A few points to clear up though with regard to your most recent comments. First, it was only a dress and shoes; no purse.(I remember that much because I remember you teasing me about it before.) Second, all cavities start out invisible to the human eye. They don't stay that way. Given enough time, they do become very visible. No, I have no intention of giving Mac x-ray vision. Given her habit for doing things that she shouldn't do, I'm afraid, if she had it, she would use it irresponsibly. Last, with regard to the hawks in the wedding chapter, Chegwidden was not wrong. The author was wrong! I'll admit freely, I whispered in his ear. He just repeated what he heard. Totally my fault! I will fix it.

Thank you for enlightening me and for making me a better writer! There are so many little factoids to look up, I'm bound to miss one from time to time. Had that little bit of information actually been written by Chegwidden, (Calling him Cheggie just feels unnatural to me.) I'm sure he would've gotten it right. It just strikes me as a sort of thing a man like him would know. God I miss him. Almost more than Harm. He was, and still is, a favorite. Sometime in the near future I shall have to write a piece just for him.

Anyway, many, many, many thanks, and happy Halloween everybody. Eat, drink, and be scary!

* * *

Laura stands quietly and peeks in through the partially open bedroom door. She watches her aunt straighten her uncle's collar, unbutton his second button, and smooth the shoulders of his jacket before the couple exchanges a kiss. Laura smiles. She likes to tease them about this but the truth is she really likes it. It took her a while to figure it out, but Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm aren't like Mom and all her stupid boyfriends. Yeah, they like to kiss and touch; but they aren't embarrassing about it. Every time Mom had a guy over Laura just wanted to run away and hide someplace. They didn't care who saw, and it was gross! This is better; way better!

Laura's thoughts are interrupted when she realizes that her furry companion has come along and is trying to push the bedroom door open wide for her. " Off! Sit! The girl hisses quietly.

Candy does as she's told, but her warm brown eyes say she's confused. All she wanted to do was open the door. That is one of her jobs after all.

"I think somebody's spying on us!" Laura hears her uncle say, but he sounds silly; not mad.

Mac chuckles. "Come in you two." She smiles and waves them in.

"Okay Candy, push."

Laura's sidekick happily springs into action, using her nose and one paw to push the door open entirely. As always, she's a little too eager to do her job, but Laura is aware of this and stays put until after the door rebounds off the wall behind it. Fortunately, it doesn't rebound hard enough to close completely.

Harm shakes his head in amusement and kneels to rub the happy dog behind the ears when she joins them. "I've gotta put some doorstops up before you knock holes in the walls, Girl!"

"She's never made any holes yet. Mostly she just makes a lot of noise; thump, crash, boom, bang… and I wasn't spying… Well, not on purpose!" Laura shakes her head vigorously. "You guys just look so pretty! How come you're all fancy?"

Mac removes something Laura can't quite see from the top of the tall dresser and kneels beside Candy. "First, it would take Uncle Harm less time to put up door stops now, than to patch the holes the door knobs would make later. Not to mention, it would be less work, and Candy likes helping you so much that I don't think we'll get her to be less enthusiastic about it. Second, people dress nicely for gallery openings. It's kind of a tradition. They're usually black tie affairs, especially for evening showings in a place as classy as The Montage."

"Aunt Mac, why is it called that? I don't know what that word means."

" What? Montage?" She waits for her niece to nod. "A montage is a collection of pictures, or sometimes it's the different materials that make up a picture, and those pictures are used to tell a story without words."

Thinking it over, Laura squints for several seconds and then smiles sweetly. "Oh, I get it. 'Cause of all the pretty pictures in the gallery That's cool!"

"You should tell Miss Trish you think so. I'm sure she'd love to know that." Mac straightens the headdress of Laura's costume, because her ears are slightly crooked and kisses the girl's cheek being careful not to smudge the dog whiskers painted on the girl's face. Then, she peels a large yellow sticker off the piece of paper she removed from the top of the dresser and sticks it to the side of Candy's monogrammed hot pink service vest. "There, Mr. Frank said to make sure you got that."

Laura giggles; delighted by the little yellow bird. "It's Woodstock!"

"Frank said Snoopy wouldn't be Snoopy without his faithful sidekick."

Laura smiles brightly for a second and then something shifts and the smile becomes a very serious frown. "What does black tie affair mean?"

"It means that people get dressed up very formally. Attire, or clothing, usually includes black bow ties for the men, and elegant dresses for the ladies."

Laura turns her attention to her uncle. "Uncle Harm's not wearing a bow tie. He's not wearing any tie …but he still looks really pretty."

Mac tries not to giggle at the uncomfortable look on her husband's face. First, women are pretty. Men are handsome. Most of them don't like to be called pretty; it makes them uncomfortable."

Laura makes a face. " I didn't mean to."

"We know baby. It's okay. And Uncle Harm's not going to wear his tie. I said they were usually black tie affairs. This one will be too, but the bow ties are optional… This time."

"How come?"

Well… Chloe is a little more relaxed than that. She wants everyone to look nice for her opening but, she wants them to be comfortable too. Stiff propriety is really not her style; she has a little too much flair for that. Don't be surprised if she shows up tonight wearing something that is somehow understated and bold all at the same time. She's developing quite the habit for embracing contradiction."

Before Laura can ask for a clarification Harm chuckles. Developing? I think 'has developed' would be more appropriate… has fully developed."

Suddenly Laura looks a little uncertain.

"Hey, what's wrong Sweetheart."

Laura looks first at her uncle, and then at her costume. "Miss Trish told me to wear my costume. She didn't say it to wear a pretty dress. Is this right?"

"If she told you to wear your costume, then that's what you should wear. It's okay."

"Are you sure? It's not very fancy."

"I'm sure. It's okay." Harm pats her shoulder.

Mac interjects, "And Snoopy's black and white. Two very proper colors for a formal gathering."

Laura's still looks mildly concerned.

"Hmm." Harm says and holds up a finger indicating that they should wait just a moment. "I think I know what will help. He's snags his bow tie from the top of his dresser and kneels before Laura. "Here, I'm only too happy to let you be the one to wear this."

She giggles while he adjusts it to fit her smaller neck and then proceeds to fumble with the tying. "Hold still Ace; don't wiggle!"

"Why'd you call me Ace?"

"Snoopy's alter ego was the World War I Flying Ace and his arch nemesis was the Red Baron. They were always trying to shoot each other down. Well… except for on Christmas Day. On Christmas Day they called a ceasefire."

Mac looks on with pride, in both the girl and the man. She remembers watching Charlie Brown specials as a child. Silently she thinks, 'I forgot all about that. Harm would be the one to remember.'

Harm gently pokes his niece in the belly. "I said don't wiggle. I'll never get this right if you don't hold still."

The Marine decides to take charge before they're all late. She playfully nudges Harm aside. "First Harm, she's a six year old girl. It's almost genetically impossible for her not to wiggle. Second, you're not helping her any when you poke her belly. She's not the Pillsbury doughboy! And third, why is it that men never learn how to do this?"

" Simple! If we did, we wouldn't have a legitimate excuse to get women to do it for us, and we like being that close to you."

Making sure the bow tie is straight and tight; but not too tight, Mac smiles at her niece. "Well… At least he's honest, and you look very stylish! Now…" She turns to look through the big picture window in their cozy bedroom that overlooks the ocean. "It's dark outside; does Candy have the right vest on." Mac checks to make sure the dog is wearing one of her vests which has reflective material that will shine brilliant white in the path of oncoming headlights. A big black dog can go easily unseen after dark; especially if she gets away from her pack.

Laura nods enthusiastically. "I put her pet blinker on her collar too."

"So I see." Mac switches the device on. "But don't forget to turn it off inside the gallery, okay? Some people find blinking lights unsettling. And we should take extra treats for her tonight. The crowd at the gallery will naturally encourage her to misbehave. She'll get just as much attention as Chloe's photographs will. Let's hope she doesn't do anything that gets her more than the artwork."

"I've already got them." Laura whispers and pats the treat pouch attached to her walker. "But don't tell Candy. Her whole head will be in there. Uncle Harm's got some in his pockets too!" Laura bobs her chin in enthusiasm.

Rising to her full height, Mac feels the gentle pressure of Harm's hand at her elbow and offers him a sweet smile of gratitude before announcing, "Alright, unless you two are aiming to be fashionably late, then family, we'd better march!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Don't fret dear readers. I know. I know. You want more! More is coming and I promise you shall have it when you wake tomorrow morning. For now, I need a break. I need food - the kind that feeds the body, not the muse. Although that kind is good too, and always appreciated. Also, my faithful four pawed companion needs a walk. We shall return shortly and the story will continue. I just thought y'all might enjoy this much to tide you over.


	19. A Grand Opening

**Chapter 19: A Grand Opening **

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**Author's Note:** I knew this chapter was going to take a lot from me, and I was right! It took a great deal more than even I thought it would. I've gone through several drafts, and a half box of Kleenex too, but I think I'm finally happy with it. I hope you like it too.

* * *

Harm opens the door that is discreetly marked 'Personnel Only' and, with curiosity, pokes his head inside. "So this is where everybody got to." He flashes his flyboy grin and jokes, "Is this a member's only party or can we join you?"

"Get in here!" Harriet commands merrily over the rim of her glass of Riesling. Harm snaps off a stiff salute before he ushers Mac inside, his hand warm against the exposed flesh at the small of her back.

Skates offers them both a welcoming smile from her perch on the arm of the gallery owner's sofa. "We're just visiting. We've all done the walk through two or three times over. The photos are just as breathtaking, just as glorious, as they were the first time I saw them; maybe even more so and none of us are ready to leave yet, but we've all had our fill of the crowd. Mrs. Burnett graciously allowed us to invade her office."

On her way to the door that Harm and Mac just entered, Trish says breezily, "Oh please, it's just Trish, remember… and invade away darling. Trust me there have been far less charming people in this office." She departs with purpose in her pace; the stride of a hostess who not only knows where she's going, but also which route is the most expedient. She pauses only long enough to kiss her son's cheek and offer Mac's hand a gentle squeeze. "You look gorgeous!" She says discreetly and then she is gone.

Keeter informs his old friend, "That's the fifth time in twenty minutes she's been in here Harm, but she's never here for more than 30 seconds. Does she always move this fast? I don't remember her moving this fast."

"Only when she's hosting an opening." Frank supplies the answer from the wingback chair behind his wife's desk. "She'll make it look effortless, and she'll never complain, but she'll sleep till after nine tomorrow morning; her one concession. Any other day, she's up by 6:30 at the latest; including Sundays."

"I'd sleep longer than that if I were her." Harriet chimes in again. "Did you guys catch that little old blue- blooded couple? Petite little slip of a woman, hair as white as cotton and her octogenarian husband who still looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ. They came in here with a ferret in her handbag? Imagine… Bringing a rodent into this place! And Harm, your mother never lost her cool. I swear, she didn't even blink."

"It was kind of cute, I guess." Laura pipes up from her place in Frank's lap. She giggles conspiratorially, "I think Candy wanted to eat it!"

Upon hearing her name, Candy lifts her head off the floor and looks to her young mistress; alert for some other word she might recognize. She thumps her tail once against the side of the antique desk, but when she doesn't hear a request or command she recognizes, she returns her head to the floor and continues her nap.

"Laura sweetie, just between you and me, I would've let Candy chase the thing right out of here, but I was very impressed with the way she behaved. She wanted to go after it, that much was obvious, but she didn't so much as bark." Harriet declares with admiration for the little girl's buddy.

"Harriett, where is Bud tonight?" Mac inquires as she perches on the unoccupied arm of the sofa next to the blonde and hugs her in greeting.

"He's at home in DC with the kids."

"She's free and single tonight!" Keeter announces with a teasing wink.

Mildly caught off-guard, Harriet chortles and very carefully lowers her glass to her lap so as to avoid spilling it. "Somehow, I think my husband might disagree with that statement, but I will say this; I haven't had to say the words, 'No!" or 'Stop that!' or 'Don't touch that!" in over six hours and forty minutes. I haven't had to wipe a runny nose or tie anyone's shoes but my own. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself at times, but I'm determined to make the most of it while it lasts!" She tilts her head toward her nearly empty glass of white wine.

"And, how many does that make?" Harm chuckles, even though he can see she's still well in control.

Harriet's blue eyes dance merrily. "Gee, I don't know. I'm not counting tonight… Dad!"

Mac grins at the easy banter between the two old friends. "Enjoy your night off Harriet. You have a hotel room nearby?"

When she nods in response, Harm replies for Mac. "When you're ready to leave, we'll drive you."

When Mac nods adamantly in agreement, Harriet shakes her head and teases, "After just two months of marriage, they're already finishing each other's sentences. Thirty years from now we won't be able to stand them!"

Unaware that Chloe has arrived and is standing in the open doorway watching the frivolities through the lens of one of her favorite cameras, they are each mildly surprised when she quietly snaps a candid shot of the group and then declares happily, "Oh please, they've been doing that for 11 years already. The only reason that you almost never noticed it is because before they were married, they spent most of their time arguing with each other!" She quick steps into the room and exchanges a warm enthusiastic hug with Mac. "I've hardly gotten a chance to say hello tonight. Everybody keeps pulling me away!" She declares with excitement; stretching up on tiptoe to kiss Harm's cheek and dropping a light playful one on Laura's before she's even through speaking.

"Well of course they're pulling you away!" Mac says proudly, "They all want their own personal five minutes alone with the artist."

"I know, right? It's so weird! Chloe says with her own unique mix of confidence and shyness. "I just like to take pretty pictures; that's all. When Trish asked me to do this, I thought it was a kick just being asked. I mean I haven't even graduated yet. I figured, even if she didn't sell one picture, it would still be amazing… Something cool to put on a resume!"

At precisely that moment, Trish breezes in again. "Chloe darling, I'm not selling anything. Your work sells itself! I'm simply providing you with a venue. Take a 15 minute break, then touch up your lip gloss and get back out there… Mingle and charm them. The masses await!"

Keeter points to the camera on the strap around Chloe's neck. "I think it's safe to put the thing down for one night kid, I'm no art critic but judging from what I've seen, you've earned it."

Chloe waves the comment aside; "This?" She holds up the camera and the shutter clicks rapid fire style, focused on Jack Keeter's face. "This thing is more important than my smart phone."

Harm chuckles. "That's quite the statement, coming from a 19 year old college student! Every time I see a teenager today, their staring at their phones, thumbs texting away. It's a wonder they don't walk into lamp posts… or anything else for that matter. None of them watch where they're going!"

Chloe graciously ignores him, refusing to be insulted by the behavior of her own generation, and continues. "This is a worthy appendage. This is my MasterCard… Never leave home without it! I took my first photography class as a way to lessen my boredom with all the other classes. Now it's my incentive to get done with the other classes, so I can move on. I've decided! Next Spring, I want to take scuba diving classes, so that someday, I can take pictures of the Great Barrier Reef!"

Trish smiles encouragingly at the girl. "From the arid desert, to life on the ocean floor. Keep dreaming like that, you'll wind up traveling the world, with a job working for National Geographic. Just save the best prints for my gallery." She'd teases with affection.

"It's a deal!" Chloe laughs merrily. The day National Geographic calls, I'll tell 'em… Trish Burnett at the Montage gets first dibs!" The young woman's enthusiastic nod causes her dangling white gold earrings to sway gently. The delicate threads of precious metal are pleasantly flashy without being gaudy, and their simple brilliance is offset by the jacket of the classic black tuxedo she wears.

Mentally, Chloe switches gears just as rapidly as she takes pictures and addresses both Harm and Mac. "You two have got to come back out there, at least one more time. Everybody adores Laura and Candy! Snoopy and her sidekick steal the show! Her thoughts are momentarily sidetracked yet again and put on hold as Laura giggles while munching on a celery stick stuffed with cream cheese. "Kid! What are you eating now?"

Mouth full, and a large paper napkin spread over both her and Frank's laps, Laura holds up her snack, putting it on display. When she can, she says "Miss Trish says no more candy. No more sugar. She says if I eat anymore Halloween treats, I'm never going to go to sleep again!" Laura giggles, feeling the effects of her sugar rush.

Chloe stares at Mac incredulously. "I know she's your niece, and that counts for a lot of it, but come on! Look at her; she's tiny! Where does she put it?"

Mac raises an eyebrow. "This coming from the once eleven year old girl who sat on my sofa and ate half of a large pizza, an entire bucket of chicken, and then asked for both popcorn and S'mores for a movie snack?"

Undaunted, Chloe counters, "Yeah, but I was eleven and trying to self-engineer a growth spurt; attempting to grow out of my geeky little kid body. Laura's got at least five more years before it stops being cool to be adorable!"

Mac rolls her eyes. "Little Sister, you were not geeky!"

"Says you!" Chloe smiles at the use of the old familiar nickname, and laughs over her own discomfort before she changes the subject back to the topic she's more content with. "Anyway, I was about to say, I'm sure it's probably annoying having people point, stare, and whisper, but the crowd loves seeing that life size portrait of the two of you in the exhibit and then turning to see you in person. Half the women are drooling over Harm; the men, over Mac, and I heard one of them openly declare that it has to be illegal for a married woman to look so good in a backless little black dress!" She giggles. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this either, but there's a couple of bored middle aged housewives out there who probably spend their days watching soap operas based on the kinds of things I've heard them say. They're amusing themselves by planning your entire future! The last time I walked past them, I think they were up to Baby Rabb number five!"

Chloe doesn't fully comprehend, or even realize the sudden pained groan that escapes Mac, or the immediate look of concern in Harm's eyes as she, Skates, Keeter, and Harriett all laugh.

"I'd be in favor of that." Harriet declares warmly. "My bunch needs a brood of cousins that can keep up with them, rival them, give them a run for their money!"

"Well… I don't know if they'd move passed the 'planning' stage onto 'expecting' stage or not, but a certain little girl told me not too long ago that they went to the doctor To talk about how to make a baby." Keeter supplies; winking at Laura. "For all I know, Baby Rabb number one could already be on its way."

The untimely hush that falls over half the room leads Elizabeth Hawkes to turn her full attention to her married friends. When she realizes that they aren't exactly glowing, she reaches out and discreetly gives her date's bicep a very hard pinch.

Startled by the sudden spark of pain, he glares at her for an instant and rubs the stinging spot on his arm until he too realizes the unnatural silence emanating from his momentarily speechless friends. He glances first at their faces, and then notices the solemn look on Trish's face. He tries, but doesn't quite manage, not to actually cringe. He doesn't know exactly where he went wrong, but he knows undeniably that he has 'stepped in it' once again.

Harriet catches on a half second before Chloe and the two of them take turns looking at each other, at Harm and Mac, at Skates and Keeter, and then finally at Frank and Trish before Chloe asks, "What?"

Harriet watches both Harm and Mac struggle to form the right words, and after a very heavy pause, anticipation and agitation get the better of her and she demands, "Well, for Heaven's sake, somebody stays something… Anything!"

Mac reaches for Harm's hand and finds it waiting for hers. They lace fingers and she opens her mouth to speak then closes it again. Harm inches closer and wraps his free arm around her shoulders. He shakes his head slightly and clears his throat. "Sorry…uh…. We hadn't really planned on talking about this here tonight. We don't mean to make you all uncomfortable… Keeter, you're coming in a little high buddy."

Chloe looks a little uncertain when she asks, "Does that mean not yet… but you're planning?"

Harm starts again. "It means… That it's not going to be easy. We're going to…"

"It means they need some help." Laura states the simple fact very plainly; very easily. "They need a surrogate."

The four adults who were previously unaware turn their gazes to Laura; surprised that such information could come from one so small. They watch as she returns her uncle's smile and Mac motions for the girl to come and join them. They watch Laura slide from Frank's lap and cross the room slowly to join the couple waiting there.

As his initial moment of shock begins to fade, Keeter speaks again asking, "Which one of you?" He's quick to step beyond arm's length when Skates moves to pinch him yet again.

Catching this in his peripheral vision, Harm chuckles. "Easy Beth. Don't give him too many bruises. It's a perfectly legitimate question."

Conversations she's had in the past with Mac return to the forefront of Harriet's mind and she smiles sadly; putting an arm around her friend as Laura climbs into her aunt's lap. "I thought you had more time?" She asks quietly.

Unable to fully return the embrace because both hands are occupied, Mac leans into her friend's embrace affectionately. "The last time you and I talked about this was three years ago Harriet. Time's run out."

Harriett shakes her head, mystified. "No, it hasn't been three ye…" She trails off as the pages of the calendar years turn over in her mind. Suddenly filled with shame, Harriet covers her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize… So much time had gone... I didn't mean to laugh."

Mac shakes her head. "It's okay Harriett. You were just caught up in a moment."

The blonde shakes her head miserably; her eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to be cruel."

"Harriett! Stop it! Right now! You don't have a mean bone in your body; and I know it!"

Somewhat mollified that her friend isn't angry with her for being careless, Harriett relaxes slightly and tightens the arm she has around Mac's waist. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Well, we should really talk about that later. I hardly think this is the time or the place. We don't want to make everyone uncomfortable. Like Harm said, we weren't planning on discussing this tonight… And certainly not here."

Chloe gets up from her perch against the corner of Trish's desk and closes the office door. "Never mind that, we're all family here, and I want to know what you're going to do."

Mac smiles with warm appreciation. "Thank you sweet girl, but sometime within the next five minutes, ten tops, you and Trish both need to get back out there. Tonight is your big night. That's your opening out there!"

Chloe shakes her head stubbornly. "Trish has employees. The whole shebang won't come to a grinding halt within the next ten minutes, and you're more important to me that all the photographs I could possibly take in my entire lifetime. I took the pictures, I've showed up, I've chatted, I've mingled, I've schmoozed, and I'll do it all again soon enough. If those people out there can't get along without me for ten minutes more; then who needs them!"

Mac catches sight of a slight nod of approval from Trish as well as a bemused smile that the woman tries unsuccessfully to hide. Next Harriett begins to nod enthusiastically; and Mac's not certain if it's a genuine desire to know, or if it's so they simply won't feel like the odd ones out, but in fairly short order, Keeter and Skates are nodding their encouragement as well.

Harm sighs audibly. Shaking his head, he runs the fingers of one hand through his hair. "Okay, but if you all decide later that you wish we'd done this differently, just remember… we tried." He flashes Mac an uncomfortable but willing smile. "No time like the present?"

Mac tightens her grip on Harm's hand and jumps in with both feet; wishing that her stomach wasn't suddenly full of butterflies with manic wings. "Well, we could adopt, and we will if we have to, but Harm and I want very much to have a child that is biologically our own. We may still have that option. I've had some test run, my ovaries are still functioning normally, which means that, as far as we can tell, my eggs are fine. However, without going into too many of the unpleasant details, since the last time you and I talked about it Harriett, my uterus has lost its elasticity. It won't accommodate a growing child."

After having given birth five times, Harriet has more than enough comprehension of what Mac is saying. After having discussed her friend's condition in detail those three years ago, she also has a very good comprehension of what Mac isn't saying. "It would be so dangerous for you." She lends voice to the thought as the reality sets in.

Mac nods. "For me, conception will be a mere millimeter away from impossible; even with medical help. And the odds of sustaining the pregnancy, if it even occurred… Harm and I don't want to take that chance. We can't. We have Laura to think about already." Mac hugs the girl to her chest affectionately. So, as Laura said, if the child is to be ours biologically, then we will need a surrogate."

Harriet's eyes go wide. "I can't even imagine." She breathes heavily. I know there are women who are paid to do that, but I don't care how much you pay them. I can't imagine what it would be like to trust a complete stranger to nurture, carry, and give birth to a child for me."

"It's more daunting, and sometimes outright frightening, than Harm and I can express with words. That's why we're hoping we won't have to go that way. Even the doctors recommend choosing a trusted friend if that's at all possible..." Mac stops at a loss for how to continue.

Harm steps in. "We were hoping that you and Bud would be here together and we certainly had no intention of doing this with an audience. We know there would be some significant obstacles to overcome, but Sarah and I have given this a lot of thought and, of all our friends, there's no one more suitable; there's no one we trust more than we trust you Harriett… And we'd like to know if you will just consider doing this for us."

The room, and everyone in it, is completely still. For what seems an interminable moment, no one moves. No one speaks. No one breathes. Harm, Mac, and everyone else present, watches the myriad of reactions and emotions that play across Harriet's pretty face; shock, disbelief, uncertainty, fear, confusion, love, joy, doubt, and several others they can't quite give a name to. It's all there; mixed up and tumbling around together.

Everyone waits, and when the typically bubbly blonde says nothing, everyone waits some more.

They all wait. They wait until Mac can stand the silence no longer. She lets go of Harm's hand and passes Laura over to him. She turns to face her friend as best she can from her place on the arm of the sofa and reaches for Harriet's hand. She offers quietly, "We aren't asking you to say yes or no this very moment. We just want to know if you'll think about it. We know it's… Colossal… Unfathomable… Un…"

Harriett gently places the fingers of one hand against Mac's mouth. "Shh."

They all watch in wonder, none more so than Mac, as tears began to stream freely down Harriet's face.

For a moment, Mac misinterprets the reason for the tears and begins to shake her head. "Harriett, it's okay. You don't have to cry. It'll be okay." Mac laughs nervously as she tries to choke back the emotion rising in her own voice. She's not sure what she expected, but this was not it, and she's both surprised and confused when Harriett shushes her for the second time. She makes eye contact with Harm to see if he understands any better than she does.

Harm shrugs, just as much at a loss as his wife is. He kneels before the two friends sitting so near one another. He sets Laura gently on her feet.

Unsure what to do with the tense moment; she's not even sure if it's good or bad, Laura quietly returns to the safety of Frank's lap. Once there, the little girl also reaches for Trish's hand. In response, Trish moves on silent feet until she is standing near enough to hug both of them at the same time.

" Harriett?" Harm gently brushes a tear from her cheek.

His simple touch finally restores her ability to form actual words, but neither of her friends is prepared for the words that do come. "Thank you."

Harm and Mac exchange another curious glance; infinitely more confused than before. Maybe their hearing is going. Mac squints. "What did you say Harriett?"

Until now, their friend has been as still as a stone, but now she finally moves; brushing tears off of her face with enthusiasm before taking one of each of their hands. She draws in a great breath and lets it out slowly. "I said thank you!" She laughs happily as new tears began to flow. "Just to know that you trust me enough to ask… It's… I can't tell you how much that means to me!" She pulls them both into a fierce hug and clings to them tightly for another long moment. When she finally lets go she says, "I'm a little…" She laughs; excited, happy, nervous and scared. "I don't know what to say first. I can't make a decision like this without asking a ton of questions. I don't know which one to ask first! Is it okay if I say… Yes, I promise to consider it… and… Maybe?"

Nodding, as if to confirm her own words, Harriet gestures excitedly with her hands and then attempts to make a clarification. "I don't mean maybe I'll consider it. I mean maybe I'll…"

Harm takes both of her hands in his and holds them gently; trying to still them. "We understand Harriet… And yes…" Mac adds on with a smile. "It's okay to say maybe."

Harriet falls silent once more. After several seconds she squints thoughtfully and then asks, "What happens first if I say yes?"

Getting the sense that it's finally alright to move again, to breathe again, several people in the room, including Mac, chuckle as she answers, "Well, before you even say yes, there will be a physical exam and tests to make sure that you're medically suitable. Even if you are medically suitable, you'll be free to decline at any point prior to the transplant; obviously, but Harriett, you're getting a little ahead of yourself. The very first step, no matter what; yes or no, is for you to go home and talk to Bud. It has to be okay with both of you; even just for the preliminary tests. There's a risk with any pregnancy. The circumstances it occurs under don't change that. We shouldn't even talk about anything else until you take that first step. Whether you do this for us or not, it's …monumental. Harm and I think it would be best if we try to keep things as simple as possible for as long as possible. "For now, just talk to Bud. If you decide you're both on board, just for the initial tests… We'll worry about what comes next after that."

Harriet goes still and quiet again for several more seconds before she finally nods eagerly. "Just talk to Bud.… Okay… I can do that!"

Mac and Harm exchange a hopeful smile and hug Harriett tightly before he rises to his full height. " Great! Now that we've done that, what do you all say we walk Chloe back out to the gallery floor for another go around?"


	20. Sleepless

**Chapter 20: Sleepless **

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**Author's Note:** There's more coming, but I'm not sure I'll get around to posting it before y'all turn in tonight. I thought, as I have, that you might enjoy the warm fuzzies before calling it an evening. If you do not hear more from me tonight, blessed be, and sleep well my friends.

* * *

Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

La Jolla

"Well, I wasn't expecting that tonight!" Frank says with a sigh of post-connubial contentment. As his wife shifts position and settles beside him under the quilt, he drapes an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close, and strokes the back of the hand that comes to rest softly against his chest.

He hears the smile that accompanies her quiet words when she says simply, "I'm in a good mood."

He laughs and gives her an affectionate squeeze. "So I noticed…" He says with feeling. "But you're also exhausted."

He feels her shrug. "The second doesn't always negate the first."

"Apparently not!"

They fall into a companionable silence and remain that way for so long that he assumes she's asleep. Nearly there himself, the rhythmic even tempo of her breathing is the soporific, gently lapping tide that finally begins to lull him away from consciousness. Thus, his name is a warm surprise when she speaks again; her voice soft and hazy in their darkened bedroom. "Frank?"

"Hmm."

"Do you think Harriet will?"

"D'on know… Maybe. Certainly flattered by the request.

Trish smiles and yawns. "She was. Wasn't she?"

"What's your feeling 'bout it?" He asks, knowing that, of the two of them, she has the more accurate barometer for measuring human behavior.

She lifts her head off his shoulder momentarily; coming awake just a little with the effort of genuine contemplation. "Hard to say. Depends on which angle she looks if at it from; either, before parenthood, or after."

"Huh? What's the difference?" He murmurs.

"The difference… She pats his chest. "Is like night and day. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have somebody ask the question Harm and Mac asked her tonight… But here's what I am certain of. I'm convinced that if it weren't for ignorance and biological imperative, the human race would die out completely. If it weren't for those two things none of us would have our own children… much less anyone else's."

Frank squints in the darkness. "Really don't think so?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "If women knew at the beginning of their first pregnancy what they know by the end of that same pregnancy… It would push ignorance right out the window. Half of us would probably choose not to be mothers right then and there. Lust, and survival of the species catches the rest of us with our pants down"

"Literally!" He chuckles sleepily.

"Pregnancy was the one and only time I ever truly regretted growing up without my mother. She was gone so early that it's all I remember knowing. That, and Dad worked so hard to fill her shoes. He was scared that without her, left alone with him, I'd grow up a dirty faced, wild haired tomboy. He'd say, 'Girls aren't supposed to be like that. You're supposed to look pretty, wear dresses, and smell sweet. I don't want to mess you up Trish.' So, when I was a teenager, he'd take me to the department store, find a corner, stand there, and look utterly miserable the whole time I was shopping; but the point is, he would take me to do anything he thought mothers did with their daughters; no matter how awkward it made him feel. So, my mother not being there felt natural to me. Then, the doctor announced Harm's impending arrival… And suddenly I was scared witless! If it hadn't been for Sarah, I would have lost my mind! I was petrified. Labor and delivery was one thing, but mostly I was scared I would royally screw him up. No matter how many questions I asked her before he was born, she'd always say, 'As long as the little one cries, everything else will be fine. A quiet newborn is not a good thing!' Then, he was born and everything shifted. It took him a few seconds to cry and no woman alive really knows fear until she's lying there, beyond exhaustion, waiting, praying, for that sound. Before that moment, I was determined, no matter what, I was never, ever doing that again! Not for myself, not for Harmon, not for anything, and there certainly was no way on Earth I would have done that for anyone else… then he cried. That sound… Some people feel it earlier, but I wasn't a parent until that moment. Until then, I would have thought it mentally, emotionally and physically impossible to even contemplate carrying much less delivering anyone else's child. But afterward… Well, if Harriet does do it; that sound will be one of the reasons why. No one who wants to be a parent should ever be deprived of that moment. That sound… Frank, it has no equal.

Her momentary lapse into silence is nothing short of reverent, but then she yawns warily, returning to that middle distance place somewhere between sleeping and waking. It has been a long day for her, even without the emotions stirred by the events of their evening. "I know it's selfish of me Frank, but I don't want my son and his wife to miss out on that. It's so hard not to hope she will."

He strokes the back of her hand again; enjoying its soft familiar feel. "Time will tell honey, time will tell. Sleep now."


	21. Sleepless II

**Chapter 21: Sleepless II **

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**Author's Note:** Because I had such a long break from writing, it's taken awhile to get this far into the story so some of you may need a brief reminder. Skates is in town tending to a sick relative. For more information, I'll direct you back to chapter six which, story wise, only occurred four days ago.

Steamboat: You and Linus weren't the only ones disappointed again this year. The Great Pumpkin didn't show up in my patch either.

Annie; With regard to Trish's mother; yes, new development. I don't even remember calling that into existence. I must've been really deep into the writing zone. It is my habit to write until I need a break, and then walk away to do something else for awhile. Upon returning to my desk, I always proofread what was previously written. When I proofed that particular section of the chapter it was even a surprise to me… But there it is in black and white.

JAG'ed Bones In The Casket: Many, many, many thanks! Not 'rushing to the yes' is the only option. I have two sisters in this life. One, I share blood with. The second, I share everything but blood with. The first is my sister by birth. The second, I call my sister by providence. They are two of the most stellar women God ever breathed life into, and I would give my life for either of them in a heartbeat. That being said, if either of them ever asks me to carry a child for them; well, that will require some serious thought. If I can't rush the yes for either of them, then how could I possibly tell this story any other way? I just couldn't sell it! So glad you agree!

* * *

Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

Jack Keeter's New Apartment

Keeter stands with his back to the shower head, letting the hot water run down his body. Steam rises and the bathroom mirror fogs as soap lather circles the shower drain.

After leaving the gallery, he had been driving Hawkes back to her aunt's house when she'd gotten a call. As he drove, he had listened to her end of the conversation. It wasn't anything she said that worried him. In fact, she hadn't said much at all; mostly she'd listened. What worried him was the pinched quality of her voice, as if each one of her few words caused her physical pain. When the brief call ended she said, "Take me to the hospital." and nothing more. He verified which hospital, she confirmed with the nod of her head and they completed the drive in silence. He had offered to walk her in, but she declined patting his knee brusquely before getting out of the car, slamming the door and sprinting for the entrance. With nothing else to do, he had driven home; his mind restless. He flopped on the couch for awhile, but sitting idle really wasn't his thing. Late night television also couldn't hold his interest; not that it ever did.

Three weeks ago he was freezing his six off in Germany. Now he's in California, an old lady he's never met is dying and an old friend of his needs help to have a baby. Neither thing really has anything to do with him, but somehow he finds himself part of the mix anyway. Briefly, he wonders, not for the first time in his life, 'What next?' That's when a faint sound catches his attention. Not sure if he imagined it or if he actually heard it, he opens the shower door and listens hard. Nope, not his imagination. Someone's knocking; quietly at first, and then louder.

"Yeah! Okay! I hear you." He shouts over the sound of the shower. Lifting his chin under the spray, to make sure his hair isn't standing on end; he smoothes it back. The knocking stops momentarily as if whoever is out there has paused to listen, but then starts up again. He shuts off the water, snatches clean terrycloth from the towel rack and hurries through the apartment covering himself and shouting as he goes. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Power down a second will ya!"

He looks through the peephole, and snatches the door open.

"You must sleep more soundly than the dead!" she complains before fully taking in his appearance. "Oh, my mistake…"

One look and he decides she's tired, disheveled and stressed. The dress she still wears from the gallery opening is badly wrinkled the way clothes often are when you spend too much time sitting on cheap hospital sofas or chairs, and somehow she still manages to look fabulous. Instead of saying so he asks, "How's your aunt?"

"Bad… But too stubborn to die… At least tonight anyway."

"Well… That's good; right?"

"I'm not so sure anymore. I mean, I want her here, but not like this. This is cruel."

"Wanna come in?"

She moves forward and the corners of her mouth start to lift in a feeble smile of gratitude. He steps to one side and she ducks under the arm holding the door open for her. As she slips passed he watches the cloud of pain in her eyes dissipate slightly when the scent of soap and a clean male body ignite desire in her, but before he has the chance to fully comprehend what's taking place, she turns him 180 degrees and walks him backwards into the wall to the left of his open front door. Her kiss is unexpected and hungry and in the moment he needs to recover from the mild shock and respond, her lips move, finding the sensitive spot over the pulse point in his neck. He hears himself groan before he finds the ability to speak. "Uh…okay." He can't help but grin. "We're …doing this now?"

"Um hmm. Please." She murmurs; her attention still on his neck, but slowly making its way back to his mouth.

Keeter closes his front door with a tad more force than he intended. "Okay, long as you're sure."

* * *

Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

Rabb Residence

* * *

Harm smiles at the three of them as he enters the master bedroom; making his way to the closet. The air smells faintly of nail polish and acetone; perfume and bubble gum. Mac, Chloe, and Laura are all piled up together on their bed. Mac and Chloe are still dressed in their evening attire whereas Laura has switched to pajamas but each one of them is barefoot. Five minutes ago when he came through Mac and Chloe were at opposite ends of the bed with their feet in each other's laps, each one painting the other's toenails. This time, though they're still in the same general positions, Laura is nestled between the two of them. Chloe works on the girl's toes while Mac shapes her small fingernails with an emery board.

Harm leaves the closet door ajar and listens to the three of them. "Hey Laura? Mind if I raid your candy stash?"

"Uh uh. Go ahead. I got lots. Just don't get my Jelly Bellies; Okay? Except if there's chocolate ones, popcorn, or blueberry. I hate those! You can have 'em."

"Okay kid. Hold still! Don't move; that foot's not dry yet. I'm coming right back to do the other one." Chloe eases off the bed, trying not to jostle Mac as she works. Both feet on the floor she departs the room at a much quicker pace, walking on her heels, in search of the aforementioned stash.

Laura giggles at Chloe's funny walk and calls out happily, "The bag is on my bed!"

Seconds later, they hear Chloe groan theatrically from the other side of the house. "Good God Laura! Your trick or treat bag weighs as much as you do!"

"Na uh!" Laura giggles again.

"Na huh!" Chloe hollers back; being silly. The teenager returns to the master bedroom, still walking on her heels, and holding the straps of a small canvas shoulder bag that is clearly more than 2/3 of the way full in both hands. She pantomimes dragging the bag which bears the screen printed image of a silly faced to Jack O' lantern on one side, and the words, 'It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,' on the other. Chloe hauls the bag up onto the bed comically; still teasing Laura about its weight and then settles carefully back into her previous spot. "Where'd you get all this loot? And don't tell me the gallery. Somehow I can't picture Miss Trish sending you home with all this." The thought of the woman brings to mind thoughts of her son as well and Chloe glances toward the closet door. "What's he doing in there?" she hisses quietly for only Mac and Laura to hear.

Mac chuckles. "He's changing clothes."

A delicate shade of blush rises in Chloe's cheeks. "Oh God! Does he want me to leave the room?"

Mac reaches out and smacks the girl's knee affectionately. "Harm's fine with it. He's use to be surrounded by girls."

Chloe looks mildly uncertain and continues to whisper. "Girls; yeah okay maybe, but I'm not usually here, camped out in the middle of his bed while he does that."

Mac sets down her emery board and looks toward the closet door. "Hey Harm?"

"Hey Mac." He calls back.

"Want Chloe to step out for a minute?"

He opens the door fully and steps out in jogging pants; pulling a T-shirt down over his middle. "Why?" he raises an eyebrow.

"See. Told you!" Mac grins at Chloe. To Harm she says, "Chloe was just a little concerned that she might be invading your space."

He flashes his best smile at Chloe and quickly snags a treat from Laura's bag without first peering inside. "If having girls in my personal space bothered me, I wouldn't have moved in with these two." He hikes his thumb in their direction. "Neither one of them is bashful about invading my space."

"Uncle Harm!" Laura objects.

"Well, you're not! Harm settles into the bedroom chair and rubs Laura's dog behind the ears when she trots over to see what's in his hand.

"Don't give her chocolate Harm." Chloe cautions.

"I won't. She's just checking to make sure it's not a dog biscuit."

Chloe squints first at Harm, and then at Laura before she glances into the bag quizzically. Returning her gaze to Laura, she announces in astonishment, "You've got dog treats in here with your candy!"

"Yeah, I know. Ain't it cool? You're right, Miss Trish didn't give me all that." Laura shakes her head with enthusiasm. Before they got dressed to go to the gallery, Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm took me trick or treating. We took Candy with us… My dog, not the kind you eat." Laura clarifies; giggling. "Lots of people would give me a treat and then ask to pet Candy. Some of them would say 'Hey wait.' Then they would go back inside, and come back with a treat for her too. Everybody says they've never seen a service dog go trick or treating before! Candy liked it!" Laura bobs her chin with certainty.

Chloe throws back her head and laughs merrily, "I'm sure she loved it! You better hope she never gets out without you. She'll go door to door, begging for goodies!"

Understanding that she is the star of the conversation, Laura's furry friend abandons her spot beside Harm. He's not relinquishing any treats anyway, so the big dog hops onto the bed and happily lays down across Laura's lap as Chloe reacquires her bottle of nail polish.

The teen pops a tootsie roll into her mouth and talks around it as she gently places Laura small foot back in her lap. "So, you don't like popcorn flavored jelly beans?"

Laura shakes her head adamantly. "Popcorn shouldn't be sweet. I don't like that kettle corn stuff either!"

"Or chocolate jelly beans?"

Laura wrinkles her nose in disgust and shakes her head twice as hard as before. "I don't know what they did wrong… But Jelly Belly messed up! Chocolate is yummy! Jelly beans are usually yummy… But, for some reason… " Laura pauses to shrug. "Chocolate jelly beans… Well, they're just plain nasty!" the girls shivers in revulsion.

Smiling, Chloe reaches out and musses Laura's hair. "Kid? Do you have an opinion on everything?"

Chloe watches Harm and Mac share at telling smile. Laughing, they announced in unison, "Just wait; she's just getting started!"


End file.
